


The Witch and The Green Knight

by Willowanderer



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: & guys & it's a friendship, AU, Based on Love and Other Fairy Tales, Bullying, Dehumanizing Language, Described Violence, Discussions of Suicide, Fairies, Food, Gen, Gore, I thought I might get more specific, Implied threat of sexual violence, Magic, Mental Instability, NOW WITH PICTURES, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Remus-typical conversation, Remus-typical violence mention, Self Esteem Issues, Short Chapters, Skeletons, Suicidal Thoughts, Witchcraft, discribed wound treatment, distribed injuries, disturbing imagery, masturbation mention, memeing, mentioned animal death, non consentual kissing, non explicit non sexual nudity, there's a horse, violence against animals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-01-22 11:03:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 40
Words: 50,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21300998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willowanderer/pseuds/Willowanderer
Summary: Based on SoDoRoses (FairyChess)'s Love and Other Fairy Tales series.Focusing on an unlikely and messy friendship between human and fae:The herbwitch Rowan Baker, a mostly harmless resident of Wickhills, and Remus, the Green Knight who once stood by the Serpent King.The Serpent King is dead.Where does Remus stand now?And why is this witch there too?I wanted to make a gay/straight alliance joke, but fae/human alliance doesn't sound right.
Relationships: Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & OFC, past Deceit/Remus, past Roman/Deceit - Relationship
Comments: 137
Kudos: 143
Collections: Sanders Sides





	1. Ill met by Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [every other page is a mirror](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15749508) by [SoDoRoses (FairyChess)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyChess/pseuds/SoDoRoses). 

The wind was blowing but the night was fairly warm, with clouds chasing each other across the sky and the moon. 

A figure wrapped in a shawl hugged themselves, standing on the path that led to the hanging tree, visible in the distance. They faced the town, back to it. 

“You’re facing the wrong way.” A voice said behind her. She didn’t answer, fingers digging into her shawl. “Having second thoughts? You’re so close. The tree is right there.”

“That’s not why I’m here.” she said at last. 

“It’s not? It’s why all the mortals come on nights like this.”

“I know.” Her pupils were wide, staring into the dark behind round glasses lenses. She didn’t look at him. “That’s why I’m here. If I can make one person turn back, it will be enough. I mean good. That’s why I’m here.” She could feel the body come closer, and smell it like a freshly fertilized field, rank and heavy. 

“You’re here to disrupt other people’s deals? Nasty nasty woman.” There was a laugh, musical but slightly discordant. “I like it.”

The wind blew again and she turned her face into it, not looking at the source of the voice. 

“What if I didn’t like it? What if I wanted to play? What’s to keep me from stopping you?” 

Now she turned to face him, a tired, overweight woman with round glasses and hair that wouldn’t stay in it’s braid, her chin raised a little as she looked him in unnaturally bright green eyes that glowed just slightly in the night. 

“I don’t fear death.” She said. The fae laughed. He laughed so hard he fell down, clutching at his stomach, and wiped away tears. 

“You humans are so _ funny. _” he laughed. “Just saying things that are untrue, anytime you please.” 

She could look down on him now, and her mouth twisted into a frown. 

“I don’t lie.” She said. 

“Oh?” he propped his elbows on his knees, and chin on his hands. “Tell me your name then.”

“I’m honest, not stupid.” She adjusted her shawl, and it gapped to show a green stone with a hole through it, worn on a cord around her neck. “I said I wasn’t here to make a deal. I said I don’t fear death. And I don’t lie. All of these things are true.”

He laughed again, and came to his feet bonelessly. A weapon came to his hand, and she watched the head of the mace descend. Her body twitched, but she closed her eyes. One of the studs pressed against her nose.

“Boop.” 

Her eyes opened again. The mace dropped and he leered at her from inches away from her face. His breath smelled like blood.

“Oh I _ like _you.” And he disappeared. 

Drawing a shuddering breath, because not fearing death did not mean she welcomed it, she turned back towards Wickhills and resumed her vigil. 


	2. We meet again

This night was cloudy and dark, but warm like a sauna. It had rained at dusk, and the ground was steaming from the hot day. Behind the clouds, the full moon was a hazy white circle. She sat on a rock by the path, knees drawn to her chest.

“Back so soon?” 

She jumped a bit, squeezing her legs, but didn’t say anything. 

“Didn’t your mother teach you to be polite to the neighbors?” 

She stretched her legs out and turned sideways, so she could watch the path, and the fae, whose head was framed by a tree. He was filthy. The leaves that edged his tunic were ragged, and there were an assortment of leaves stuck into his hair. She wasn’t sure what to make of that.

“Good evening.” She said instead. “This is the second time I’ve been here, since we met.”

“Do any good?” He laughed at her. She stuck her tongue out then immediately folded herself back into a ball. 

“I like to think so.” she said after a long moment. She raised her head to see him perched in front of her. 

“Hrmmm” he rubbed his chin. “Do you fear death yet?”

“That’s not how it works.” 

“Are you afraid of other things? Like spiders? Snakes? Earwigs? Things that crawl on you in your sleep?”

“I’m scared of lots of things.” they came up unbidden, filling her mind and she tried to shove them down, terrified suddenly he could read her mind. 

“Oh goodie, a game.” he clapped his hands, bouncing. “Blood maybe?”

She scoffed. 

“I don’t know if trying to come up with things to scare me is a good game.” 

“You’re right, it’s not a game unless someone can lose something.” 

“I’m not interested in playing a game with you. I think that would just be another way to make a bargain.” 

“Poo. That’s no fun.” 

“That’s not why I’m here.” She stared down the path. The silence dragged on and he didn’t leave “... snakes are cute.” She’d noticed his belt was fastened with a buckle shaped like a coiling snake. She didn’t know why she said it. But she did think snakes were cute. 

“I think so too.” he turned and walked towards the treeline. She watched him go, wondering what any of that meant. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what? Snakes are cute.


	3. Little Trees Get Bigger

“What about the dark? Are you scared of the dark?”

“Obviously not, or I wouldn’t be out here.” She was scared of things in the dark. He’d gotten her to jump by coming out of the dark suddenly. He’d laughed uproariously again, and kept asking about things that scared her. 

“What if I turned you into a horse and rode you over the mountains and under the rivers until dawn?” the fae picked up the ends of her braids and snapped them like reins. She tugged free.

“You wouldn’t get far before I died of exhaustion.” 

It wasn’t any worse than being back in school. In some ways it was better. Their interactions had rules. In a way it was very similar. He was trying to get a reaction out of her, for whatever reason. 

“What if I turned you into a tree?”

“That sounds restful.” She admitted. “But I wouldn’t be a very big tree, would I?” 

“Little trees get bigger.” He considered this “Then in a hundred years you’d turn back and be a giant.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works.” she laughed. 

“Oh you know so much about magic?”

“I know some.” 

“Clever little tree.” 

She shivered a bit. It was a bit too close to her name for comfort. 

“I know there are places that don’t believe in fairies.” She told him. “They say that fairy rings are caused by dead trees.” 

He laughed. 

“Well that’s stupid.” 

“Not everywhere is like Wickhills.”

“I know. I’ve seen.” 

“You what?”

He bounced a little in place. “I was on a quest! I traveled far and wide! I went from one ocean to the other.” 

She didn’t know what to make of that; that this fae had traveled more than she had.

“I’ve never lived anywhere else. I was born here.” 

“You _ are _a little tree. Rooted in the dirt.” It looked like that had stuck. 

“Then what should I call you?” she challenged. 

“You can call me ‘your grace’” 

“‘Your Grace’?” she asked incredulously. “Like a duke?”

“Yes, just so-”

“Well ‘your grace’, I’ve seen you fall on your face. Not the most graceful thing.” 

“Well little tree, you should see more of me. You’d like what that would bring.” 

She started to reply then frowned. At his broad grin, she frowned harder. She had two choices. She could let him win this little challenge, or she could keep up the chain. 

“I’ve seen more than enough; so I guess that’s just tough. Keep it in your plants.”

He laughed. 

“It’s a beautiful night; and if I can’t give you a fright, why not give it a chance?” 

She tried to think of something that rhymed with ‘asexual’. He probably wouldn’t understand what that meant anyway. 

“I’m not your type, it wouldn’t live up to the hype. You have nothing that I want.” Before he could answer, she upped the game. “So drop the flirt, it’ll do naught but hurt, you grimy and green dilettante.” 

“Well you’re right you aren’t who I want, he can’t be found in normal haunts, but I can still have fun. With flesh and skin, a wicked whim, I could get some… luck.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her, which took his entire body with it. She held up her hands, looking away. 

“In this case you win, the only rhyme I can think of suddenly is ‘fuck’” 

“Suck.” he offered. “Pluck, duck, Cuck-” He choked on that last one and coughed. “You were doing so well too- do I get a prize?”

She applauded sarcastically. “Oh wait, no-” She dug in her sweater pockets, and offered her hand palm down towards him, something held in it. He put his hand out beneath it. “I picked this up accidentally this afternoon. I think it’d suit.” A slightly crumpled four leaf clover fell out of her fingers as she opened them. “There you go, ‘your grace’ you got some luck.” 

“Giving up a good luck charm?” he asked, inspecting it. 

“Oh, they’re not good luck for me.” She explained. “I try not to pick them, but it’s still an automatic response. I guess I picked it for a reason, today.” 

“Aw just for me.” he cooed syrup sweet. The wind changed and she got a faceful of the smell of him, compost and blood, and this close, very strong. She coughed. 

“Stinky.” She said pointing at him, and grinning. “Stinky bastard man.”

“... eh, you’re not wrong.” he tucked the clover into his hair. 

She smiled innocently, then stood up and dusted herself off.

“I’m leaving. Clearly this was just another example of clover-induced bad fortune.”

“Don’t be a sore loser, little tree.” 

She flipped him off and walked away.

“I know what that means, and you already said no!” he called after her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rhyming games are often very important in interactions with the fae. This was clearly an informal one, but better safe than sorry.  
All of his threats are hypothetical- prefaced with 'what if' which gets around the not lying.
> 
> I always have terrible luck when I pick four leaf clovers.


	4. I'm in Danger

It was absolutely the kind of night she should be inside, the sky completely clear, the full moon casting stark shadows. Predictably she couldn’t sleep. She supposed it was just that these were the kind of nights that ghosts and witches walked, even in summer. Still just a quick walk, there and back. She’d stay on the path and it would be fine. She’d just gotten in sight of the old tree when she heard something crashing through the woods. Turning to face it, she saw the fae striding towards her, mace slung over his shoulder. Normally he looked insane, but tonight he looked mad as well. He was between her and town, on the path and coming closer. She backed up a few steps without meaning to, then stopped herself and held her ground. Now was not the time for him to stop thinking she was funny. Clenching her teeth she met his eyes. They weren’t that different in height, but those few inches counted. 

“Still no fear of death?” His breath smelled like wine tonight, not blood. 

“Not of death.” She swallowed.

“What if I sired a half breed on you?” he grabbed her arm. “Would that scare you?” For a moment he thought he’d done it, and then her hand came out of her sweater pocket and  _ something _ sprayed into his face. It burned. He dropped her arm and fell to his knees, covering his face with his hands, which only made the pain spread to his palms. The noise he made was somewhere between a wail and a whimper. 

“Nettle, iron and salt, in spring water blessed.” She held a spray bulb, like one might mist plants with. She held it like a weapon. A leaf of stinging nettle floated above a black nail. “Yes. That scares me.” 

He was crying, trying to get it out of his eyes. She shifted back and forth as her breath calmed down watching his discomfort. Finally she disappeared for a moment, coming back and kneeling beside him, peeling his hands back and putting a large dock leaf over his face, and then another in his clutching hands. “Shhh shhh. You were just trying to scare me, weren’t you?” She rubbed small circles on the other side of the leaf, and the pain ebbed. The girl hummed as she worked, seemingly forgetting that she’d been the one to hurt him. He grabbed her wrist. 

“Why.” 

“Little trees have deep roots?” She offered, tugging at her wrist, but he was stronger. “I don’t like seeing people cry. I was scared. You’re scaring me again.” The threat hung, and he let go. She kept humming. After a bit she started to sing “ _ Hush little baby don’t say a word, mama’s gonna buy you a mockingbird... _ ~” she’d gotten through the entire song by the time he lay still. 

“You’re not good at singing.”

“I know.” it still sounded like it hurt. She pressed her hand down on the dock leaf, squishing his nose. “You’ll probably heal. I … didn’t know what would happen.” she admitted. “I use it to keep things away.” Normally she’d apologize for hurting someone but it didn’t seem like a good idea in this situation. 

“Not going to work.” he sing songed. “Little tree, sing me another song.” She wrinkled her nose, and started to stand up, but he grabbed her skirt. She liked that skirt.

“Didn’t  _ your  _ mother teach  _ you  _ manners?” she asked irritably. 

“... No.” 

She sang another lullaby, one she’d memorized by watching Hocus Pocus a hundred times. This was a terrible idea. He wasn’t her friend. He wasn’t human. He just thought she was entertaining. Wait, had he actually fallen asleep? He was still holding her skirt. She had no idea what to do about this. Then her heart leapt into her throat, and she suddenly discovered that she did in fact fear death.  _ She had attacked a member of the gentry. _ It didn’t matter how funny  _ he  _ thought she was, if he scarred from it, or even just mentioned it to… to… she realised in her careful quest to not tell him anything about herself, she knew nothing about him.  _ Surely  _ he had friends or allies. She could get away if she took the skirt off. But she knew the magic she could do with a piece of someone’s clothing. She’d wait. The adrenaline slowly ebbed from her and she changed positions so she could put her head on her knees. Any time. He’d wake up any time.

She woke up in the predawn light and he was gone, leaving her alone in the grass beside the path, in a ring of tiny mushrooms. 

“Oh yay.” She said bitterly, and limped home, sore from her night on the ground, hoping very much that she would reach there the same night she left. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He's not gentry, he's just a very powerful humanoid fae, but it's not always easy to distinguish between types for humans, even witches. 
> 
> Dock leaves are a traditional remedy for nettle sting.   
stinging nettles are especially harmful to changelings, apparently, but the spray does work for chasing most small nuisances away.


	5. It Doesn't Mean Anything

She was very tense the next time she went to the path. The more she’d thought about his threat, the worse it felt. In the moment, it had been terrifying. Dwelling on the idea of it was worse. The leftover fear of her reaction still felt sour, and her new found realization that while she might not fear _ death _, dying was kind of terrifying. Something to a tell a therapist if she ever found one. Gods, could Wickhills use a good therapist that understood the town. Having to start from ‘okay, I’m not crazy but fairys…’ was not a great place. She felt something settle on her head and jerked sideways, disturbing the flower crown that had been placed there, it dipped over one eye. The fae stood behind her, where he’d apparently gotten without her noticing. 

“Scared you again.” he said, but the smugness seemed… off. “I went too far.” he added. “I shouldn’t have taken my bad mood out on you.” 

Her eyes bugged. He was… apologizing? Sort of? She put her hand up to the wreath of flowers, starting to take it off.

“I can’t take this-” she started

“It doesn’t mean any more than a dock leaf.” he flipped a hand dismissively. She let her hand drop. An apology for physical pain. An apology for mental pain. She sat down where she stood, legs not willing to hold her for the moment. Getting back to the house was going to be fun.

He crouched down, elbows propped on his knees, staring at her.

“You’re a funny little tree.” he said. 

“Am I?” She asked. 

“I wonder why.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't accept gifts from the fae guys. It can set a dangerous precedent.


	6. Let's Make a Deal

“What are you doing out here, anyway?” She asked. They were both sitting on a rock. He hadn’t even tried to scare her tonight. “You know why I’m here, but why are you?”

“I’m talking to you.” 

“Well yes, now, but it doesn’t seem like you’re here to make deals, or something like that.”

“No, I was just passing by.” He lay back and stared at the sky. “Got momentarily distracted by a silly tree.” 

“Passing by in the middle of the night?”

“Doesn’t matter to me! I’m looking for something.”

She fought the urge to ask him what. 

“You haven’t found it yet?” 

“I’m pretty sure it’s been hidden.” 

She fought the urge to offer to help. He sounded… sad. 

“You mentioned someone you liked.” she tried to change the subject. “Why don’t you spend time with them.”

“He’s dead.” 

Critical failure. She winced.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” 

“What?” He was staring at her like she’d done something ridiculous.

“I’m sorry for your loss. It hurts to lose people, and it must be worse for your people, because you live so long.” 

He just kept staring, like she was a puzzle he was trying to figure out. Then his face lit up. 

“I figured it out, little tree.” She tried not to react but her eyebrows raised anyway. “You’re a  _ witch _ ! You can help me~”

“I already said you have nothing I want.” She looked away. “Besides, I’m just an herb-witch. I probably can’t do what you want. Whatever it is you want.”

“Are you sure?” He cosyed up, pressing their sides together. Her nose wrinkled. Was it strange she was getting used to the way he smelled? “I’ll bring you the sweetest fruits from the goblin market, to make you pretty and soft. I’ll bring you rare herbs from the fairy hills to bind men’s minds and hearts. I’ll steal a shawl from the Spider’s lair to wrap your pretty blond hair.” he lifted the end of her braid, and tugged. 

“I don’t… I don’t want any of those things.” she said. Then she smiled just a little. “Are  _ you  _ trying to make a bargain with  _ me _ ?” 

“Oooh~” he giggled. “I like that, funny tree. We can play that game.” he cast a glamour and sat down, casual jeans and a green button up. “You can be a fairy, and I’ll be a human.” 

She scrabbled backwards away from him in a way she never had before, suddenly scared. There were tears in her eyes. 

“No.” Picking up her skirts, she ran into the darkness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anything can become normal over time...


	7. The End of Summer

It was storming. She sat next to her window and watched the tossing of the tree outside her window. At least with the driving rain no one else would be venturing out either. It was late. She should go to sleep. This was probably the last big storm of the summer. Then it would be fall, and winter, and too cold for her to venture far from her house. By the time it was spring again, hopefully the fae would have forgotten about her. She rubbed her eyes. That shouldn’t upset her. They weren’t friends. You couldn’t- she corrected herself, even in her head- you shouldn’t make friends with the fair folk. Especially not crazy ones. He was mean to her. He kept trying to scare her. He’d never actually hurt her. He _ couldn’t _ lie to her. He always talked to her. She tried to pull her knees up to her chest and only got part way before the pain stopped her. The rain hissed down and the wind blew like it had a vendetta against the trees. She closed her eyes, and tried not to let the sound of the wind frighten her. Funny, she didn’t think any of the trees were close enough to knock on her window. Wearily, she opened her eyes and looked at the window. If there had been thematic justice in the world, lighting would have illuminated the outside, but instead she only saw faintly luminous green eyes shining through the reflective dark surface of the glass. Rhythmicly something rapped against it. She stood bolt upright, chair scraping back against the floor, only wincing a bit as her joints popped. She unlatched the window, and yanked it open, followed by the screen. 

“What are you doing here?” She demanded, not flinching back from the rain that came in the window. 

“I know your _ name _” he teased, leaning on the window frame. “Rowan Baker.”

Rowan’s mouth worked, because she’d never expected him to follow her. To read the sign outside her house. Rowan Baker: Herbwitch. To most people just an advertisement of a home business. 

“How… how do you know that’s not someone else in the house?” 

“Because you’re a witch, little tree. What better name?” 

Rain poured down on him unheeded, rattling onto the sill. It plastered his hair to his head and made his mustache droop. He looked insufferably upbeat anyway. 

“Fine. You’re right. You solved the mystery of me.” she sighed. It wasn’t all of her name, anyway. No one gave their middle name casually in this town, though there had been a conversation about them in grade school. “I suppose you can call me Rowan.” 

“You can call me by my name. Remus.” Spreading a hand over his chest he gave a little bow.

“That’s your name?” she was shocked. 

“The smallest part.” 

Still it was more trust than she’d expected. Rowan suddenly wondered what _ he _thought their relationship was. Rain lashed across them both, standing on opposite sides of an open window.

“... you’re greener than I thought. In the light.” she said at last, unable to think of anything else to say.

“That’s just the way I am. You couldn’t tell?” 

“I’ll have you know I have excellent night vision. I can see almost as well in the dark as in the light.” She folded her arms over her chest, and was unprepared for him reaching out and taking her glasses. From his body posture he’d put them on.

“... that’s terrible.”

“I’m getting the spray.”

“Will you be able to see it?” 

Unable to help herself, she gave a huff of laughter, and put her hand out instead. He returned her glasses. She was sorry she hadn’t been able to see him in them. She wiped them off on her sleeve. 

“I just sort of expected you to wear black.”

“Why?”

“Black’s a color for mourning.” 

“Huh.” He sounded contemplative. 

“So you found me. You know my name. Game over?” 

“Still bored. Also wet. Can I come in?”

“You can’t come into the house. Other people live here.” She pointed to the base of the tree, the one she’d been named after. “I’ll come down if you want to talk. But you can’t be on my porch roof like this.”

“I can!” He did a dance step. 

She rephrased 

“Please get off my porch, and I’ll meet you under the tree?” 

“Promise?”

“I won’t; but I will.” she slid the screen down, then the window, and tossed a towel on the dampness on the floor. It only took a moment to pull her boots and raincape on, and step into the deluge, walking around the porch until the branches of the rowan tree sheltered her. It was a tall old tree, heavy with berries this time of year. It had been well established when she was born, and it was only older now. The wind tossed the branches, and she wiped raindrops off the lenses of her glasses. 

Even though she was half expecting it, Rowan still yelped when Remus’s face dropped down in front of her. He’d perched in the branches of the tree, lying in wait to spook her. 

“You shouldn’t run from me, by the way.” He dangled from his knees. 

“Why not?”

“It makes me want to chase.” His eyes and teeth gleamed and she was reminded for a moment what she was dealing with. “I like a hunt now and again, and I love a game.” 

“I’ll try to remember. You just… said something that opened an unexpected hurt.” 

“Did you pretend you were a fairy when you were a kid?”

“Something like that.” Rowan didn’t feel like telling him how long she’d wondered what she really was. She leaned against the trunk of the tree and stretched out her legs, one after another, sticking them out in front of her and rotating her ankles. Raising her arms, she stretched them as well, feeling her spine pop. Her hair was wet and cold. The fae flipped over the branch and landed next to her.

“It’s no fun if I’m not scaring you on purpose.” 

“I appreciate that.” 

“I still think you could help me.” 

“I doubt I could.” She retorted. “I’m only good for little bits of help, and frankly, you look like you could use a great deal.” 

He laughed. 

“I’m a mess.” he agreed. Wind drove a sheet of rain through the branches, spattering both of them with water. 

“So am I. So I guess we make good company.” They stood there, silent, watching the storm. Neither of them made any move to leave, though Rowan stretched her legs out occasionally. Eventually, the storm passed and the sky cleared. As the clouds rolled away, the temperature plummeted, and their breath fogged the air under the tree. It was early but the air held a promise of frost. They both sighed, and the sound made him laugh.

“Not the way I like to keep people up all night.” He shook the last of the water out of his hair and she flinched away as it spattered her face. When her eyes opened again, he was gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't worry too much. Rowan has a great deal of name.  
Rowan Trees, or mountain ash, are typically used for warding against fairies.


	8. A Change of Pace

The next time she saw Remus, the deep green of his coat had been replaced with a soft sort of black, the kind that made her think of staring into darkness, trying to make shapes in it. It was also in day time, while she was in a clearing in the woods behind her house. It wasn’t deep in the forest by any means, if you squinted you could even see the house still. Rowan had always thought it might have had an outbuilding in it at one point or something. But nothing was there now, and she encouraged herbs that did better wild to grow there. Besides, the bees liked it. Her mother called it her ‘wild’ garden, and she was starting to prepare it for winter. The day might have been warm, but she had to move slowly, so it was better to start when she could. 

“Good afternoon.” She said pleasantly, wondering if she should mention the coat. Perhaps it had something to do with the changing season. The equinox  _ had  _ just passed. She looked back down at the overgrown plants she was trimming down, grabbed another handful, and made a careful swing of her machete. 

“So you’re going to help me, right Rowan?” He asked. She kept swinging, laying down a row around the edge of the clearing.

“I’m kind of offended you think I’d fall for that.” She told him conversationally.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying.” he laughed.

“Well, I  _ could _ , but it would be silly.” She raised her head and smiled. “Still looking?”

“Still hidden.” he agreed. 

“See anything interesting while you were looking?” 

“A whole elk skeleton with a tree growing up through it.”

“That  _ is  _ cool.” She stopped and tried to picture it. “Through the ribs or what?” 

“More through the chest, looked like it was humping it.”

“Do you mean hugging?”

“Pretty sure I said what I meant.” 

Rowan laughed in spite of herself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wearing green means you're horny. And he stopped  
well, wearing green.


	9. What are you Looking for?

After a while, it became routine, almost. When she was working outside, Remus would show up. Sometimes it would be casual, sometimes he’d sneak up on her to make her jump. Rowan only took a swing at him once when he opened with tickling her ribs. He hadn’t seemed to mind, and her nails had barely dislodged one of the leaves from his mantle. Also routine was his asking for her help, or trying to trick her into it. He didn’t seem to mind that it never worked. He’d gossip at her about the court, but with no context and no names it didn’t really mean much to her. Well not no context. She had a  _ little  _ context, but it didn’t help much with most of his epithets. ‘The Spider’ was easy; clearly he’d been a retainer of the Serpent King, and didn’t have much respect for the current lord. ‘Sprout-consort’ and ‘Honey and Cream’ were a bit more confusing but ‘Witch Consort’ was enough a surety that it told her who the others were. She wasn’t stupid, after all, or blind. While she hardly had her thumb on the pulse of Wickhills gossip, she heard plenty. Besides, there just weren’t that many witches in the area. There were only so many people it  _ could  _ be other clues aside. His deep animosity was a little more confusing, but clearly there was a lot going on there, and she could either ask, and find out- a terrifying concept- or just accept it and let him talk. If he’d been human she would have absolutely considered his talking it out good, even with the vague-yet-specific compilation of violence. It sounded like venting. It wasn’t anything worse than she’d thought about in her darkest moments. She realized, all at once, that he didn’t have friends either. It wasn’t just that he spent all his time combing the forest for something lost or hidden, but that there weren’t any fae he sought out for companionship. 

That was probably why she softened, as October stretched on. 

“So what do you want my help with?” she asked. 

“It’s a secret. You have to promise not to tell.”

“Who would I tell?” She didn’t think the deflection would work. Remus had years of asking questions instead of lying on her. 

“You have to promise.” He was fierce. 

“I.” she was considering it. Giving her word to a fae. It was crazy. It was stupid. She was going to. “I promise I won’t tell your secret.”

“Help me find the grave of the Serpent King.”

She was  _ absolutely  _ going to die.

“No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He calls him The Serpent King because that's what he wanted to be called.   
I like writing fanfic, especially borderline insert characters like this- just outside the main story. They've heard what's going on, but they didn't directly interact with it.


	10. Gothicly Romantic (But Gross)

It didn’t seem to dissuade him. In fact, he started waxing ecstatic on the previous ruler of the fae himself, including far more information that Rowan would ever want or need. Within a few conversations it was _ painfully _obvious that Remus had been somewhat closer than just a retainer.

He had very little filter. She did discover that she could derail him by asking how the search was going.

“What will you do if you find it?” Rowan asked desperately. He wasn’t even being dirty this time, but ten minutes was her limit of listening to someone sing the praises of someone’s eyes who she would a) never meet and b) would probably have killed her if she had. He considered.

“I thought I might take his bones to the darkest part of the forest. Where he was born, and see if maybe that could bring him back. Or I could lie down with him and wait for death. Would you open me up and let my intestines become vines?” 

“How would I get back?” she retorted. “If I was there too.”

“Wouldn’t be my problem!” 

She stared at him for a long moment. 

“Open your own damn guts.”

“Aw, but that would be _ hard _.” he whined. “I prefer other things to be hard .” 

She tipped him into her compost heap. He didn’t seem to mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remus: *Horny on the main for Durant* *also kind of has a heart boner*


	11. Nuts to Death

Rowan sat on a stone wall, soaking in the fall sunlight like a camel gearing up for a cross desert jaunt. She had a basket and a lap full of acorns, sorting through them for the most perfect specimens. Sometimes she tossed the rejected, sometimes she let them fall by her feet, or dropped them into a crack in the wall. It was a whimsical kind of thing. The sound of a shifting stone caught her attention, and she saw Remus walking along the wall thoughtfully. She threw an acorn at him.

“Changing the kind of tree you are?” he asked and dropped down beside her, reaching into her basket and taking a nut.

“I was really expecting a nut joke, honestly.”

“Too easy.” He cracked the acorn between his teeth making her wince, and ate the meat. 

“Yuck.” Rowan said thoughtlessly. 

“They are pretty bitter. I prefer filtering them through small animals.”

“I knew you had a shit eating grin.” 

He cackled. 

“That’s what I get for going easy on you?” 

“I’d say it’s more that you’re a bad influence.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a paper bag, offering him a piece of maple candy instead. They were shaped like acorns. 

“A dream come true.” 

She stuck a piece in her mouth, and went back to sorting acorns, going through them a second time with more exacting standards once she was finished. A thought occurred to her. 

“Say, you might be able to answer a question I’ve always had.”

“Fae dicks look like human dicks, only better. I’d love to give you some hands on instruction.”

“What do pixies taste like?”

She actually got him to stop and blink, then laugh.

“Pixies?”

“So high, usually winged, kind of annoying? What do they  _ taste  _ like?” 

“You know they’re like… people?” 

She cocked her head and met his eyes.

“What’s your point?” 

He laughed again. 

“So what I’m getting out of this is you haven’t eaten a pixie.” Rowan was more amused than disappointed. 

“I stuck one in my mouth once, but that was more of a threat than a vore thing.” 

“So?”

“So what?”

“What did it  _ taste  _ like?”

“Blood, it stabbed the fuck out of my mouth.” 

She shrugged. 

“Disappointing. I thought they’d taste like sugar soap bubbles. Lots of froth but no substance.”

“You really put a lot of thought into this.”

“They used to tie knots in my hair when I wasn’t paying attention. I could never catch them.” 

“Now I want to know.” he stroked his mustache thoughtfully. “I’m not going to be able to look at one without wondering.” 

Rowan couldn’t help it, she started giggling. 

“And I thought  _ I  _ was the bad influence. I feel threatened, Rowan, positively threatened.” 

“Hey, I think we’ve done enough role reversal.” 

“You’re the one with the vore fetish!” 

“It’s not a fetish, it was a reasonable question!” They both were laughing. Rowan ran her fingers over the smooth side of an acorn. “What are you up to?”

“Tracking.” He shrugged. “Things have changed more than I would have expected while I was gone.” 

“You know I was wondering; why  _ were  _ you on a quest?”

He waved a hand dismissively 

“There was a  _ thing _ , I was kind of  _ jealous _ , might have tried to kill His toy once or twice or three times, so He sent me to catch one snipe for every time I tried.” The way Remus said ‘He’ was very telling. 

Rowan laughed. 

“You were sent on a literal snipe hunt?”

“As opposed to what?” he looked genuinely confused. 

“... Okay, work with me- when humans send other humans on snipe hunts, it means they send them off to get scared and embarrassed in the woods, because it’s a prank.”

“So no snipes?”

“Snipes are?”

“Kind of like Pertyons? Got antlers and beaks full of teeth, and sharp, deerlike hooves. Enormous eyes. Wings that hit like a falling log. Pretty rare.” 

“How is that like a Peryton?” 

“Deer bird thing?” 

“Fair enough.” She tried to picture it. “You killed three rare animals?”

“Four.” 

Rowan pursed her lips, not sure if she wanted to ask.

“I wanted a spare.” 

“For when you tried again.” She put her head in her hands, not sure if she was laughing. 

“It’s like you know me.” He was grinning. She could hear it. 

“So what happened?”

“I brought them to the Spider. He’s the lord of the Forest, and technically, that completed my quest.” he went quiet. It stretched on and she bumped her shoulder against his. 

“You ok?”

“I wasn’t here. I should have been; if only to die for him.” 

“It wasn’t your fault.” She tucked an arm behind his back, and hesitantly laid her head on his shoulder. Not quite a hug, but close. “You couldn’t have known.” 

“I should have been here.” he repeated. “I shouldn’t have let it get to me. He’s only a human. I could have waited. He’ll die eventually.” his eyes suddenly slid sideways to her. “ _ You _ are going to die.”

“What, today?” She asked, making a joke of it, sitting up. She didn’t realize how unfocused his eyes normally were until they were focused on her. Rowan hopped off the fence, and picked up her basket. “I should get back.” Part of her didn’t want to go. It wanted to stick around and cajole him until he was making dirty jokes again. Melancholy didn’t suit him. She could feel his eyes on her for longer than he should have been able to keep watching. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's your reminder that Rowan isn't 100% sane herself. 
> 
> Remus has just realized that his witch is going to go away at some point. He hadn't even thought about it, much less that it would bother him.


	12. Halloween Dance

Halloween came unusually warm that year, floating on a week of summer-like weather. Trick or treating was over, and now there were only older children making mischief, and Rowan couldn’t sleep. She knew the warmth couldn’t last, and she knew that while she’d regret pouring all her energy into dancing the next day, she’d regret not dancing more. So she plugged in her earbuds, silly novelty ones that made her look like she had pointed ears, and took herself to her clearing, still wearing her costume. She wore a wreath of silk rowan leaves and berries crowned with small antlers, with her hair unbound, and fake wings that bounced when she walked and flared when she turned. Rowan had dressed like a fairy of one sort or another for Halloween for more than half her life. In the dim starlight she stretched her arms to the sky, and let herself imagine herself as something other than what she was, as she danced. In the dark it didn’t matter what she looked like, and she danced until her voice rasped in her lungs, bobbing and swaying, eyes shut, lost in the music. She whirled happily and then suddenly bounced off a warm body. Her eyes flew open. 

He was wearing a mask, leaves curling around his face, but there wasn’t a doubt in her mind who it was. Who else would be in the clearing? He gave a mocking bow, and held out his hand in a clear invitation to dance. For a moment she forgot what she was, what he was and thoughtlessly reached out for the offered hand, breathless and full of music. Just before their fingers touched, the song in her headphones changed, and she jerked back. 

“Did I scare you?” he asked.

“I scared myself.” She was panting for breath now, the spell she’d wrapped herself in broken. She wrapped her arms around herself, and stepped backwards another step. ‘_ You shouldn’t run from me _.’ she heard in her memory. He was less terrifying in daylight. It had been a while since she’d encountered him at night. The sweat on her skin was making the leaves she’d carefully glued in place loosen. Rowan heaved a couple of deep breaths, and raised a trembling hand.

He offered his again, like they were at a formal dance in a movie. She reached out- and right past it, pressing his nose with one finger.

“Boop.” She said brightly, and curtsied, making her escape while he laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If she'd taken his hand, he absolutely would have abducted her, and not given her back until someone made him.  
That's what you do with things you like. You take them and keep them safe, right?


	13. Bullies Don't Need Reasons

Fall was nearly over, with trees being more bare than bright. Even the sky seemed washed out and gray. It was as if October had taken up all the good fall had to offer. Rowan felt tired already. Hearing a car rattling up the road behind her, she shifted to the grassy verge. The pickup whipped past her at full speed.

“Slow down.” she said automatically. “You’re going too fast.” To her surprise she heard the car turning around, and looked up as it zipped back towards her.

“Hey Baker Act, still talking to yourself?” 

Marco Spencer. Of course it was. Rowan contemplated trying to jump the ditch and running into the woods. The ditch was pretty deep and wet right here. Better not risk it. Of all of the assholes she’d dealt with in school, he was certainly one of the most persistent. Most of them had just gotten on with their lives, and they’d pass each other like anyone else. Some tried to pretend they hadn’t done anything. Usually she let them. The truth sometimes wasn't worth it, and she wished she could pretend they hadn’t done anything either. But Marco- he was just unpleasant as a person. Unpleasant in that way that other people seemed to find entertaining, for some reason. Maybe just because the unpleasantness wasn’t aimed at them. 

“Do you need directions?” She asked, and mentally suggested a southward trip. “It can be easy to get turned around on these backroads, can’t it?” It could be easy in a place that didn’t change itself, let alone Wickhills. “I’m fairly sure that if you keep going the way you were, you’ll hit Backwoods Road. That’s paved even.” 

“Same old weirdo.” He was leaning out the window, letting the car ease forward. 

“Are you drunk?” She asked, getting a good look at his face. “In the middle of the afternoon?! You know what- yes, I talk to myself, yes I am a weirdo. No, I do not have to talk to you. Goodbye.” She turned and marched down the road. There was a long moment when she felt the thrill of escape, and then the engine of the truck gunned behind her. 

Rowan turned around and saw the door of the truck coming at her and jerked aside, foot slipping and sending her tumbling to the dirt. The door slammed shut and the brakes screeched and she heard laughter as dust settled on her. Her head had hit something when she fell and it stung. It burned, with that strange cold feeling that happened sometimes when you got a scrape and it felt like it should be bleeding. No… she was bleeding. Her fingers found a gash at her hairline; a little triangular tear. She glared at the sharp edged stick that had wounded her, getting to her feet. 

“Are you serious right now?” She demanded. “We haven’t been in school for a decade, and you see me and just-” Rowan’s eyes stung, as blood dripped down from the cut on her forehead. She pressed her palm to it, trying to stop the flow. “Knock me over like it’s funny.”

“Hey, you fell over on your own.” 

“Liar.” She was crying now, she couldn’t help it. She hurt, and she was so mad. “Why are you _ like _this? What did I ever do to you?”

He only laughed more. 

“I never touched you- who would?” The door slammed again, he’d gotten out. “Say, you’re a witch. I need a curse.”

“If I haven’t cursed you _ yet _, what makes you think I’ll-” He grabbed at her arm and she pulled back, as another emotion joined the cocktail swirling in her chest. Fear. 

“Not me, my wife. Bitch. Says she’s gonna leave me. Can’t lose another.” 

“That sounds very much like a _ you _problem.” Rowan spat. “I don’t do curses.” 

“Bullshit. Love spell then. Make her stay.”

“I will not.” How much blood was she losing? Did she have a concussion? None of this made sense.

“So you _ can _do that?” 

“What is this thing?” A different voice. There was a shattering noise. 

“What the fuck?” Marco swore. 

“I don’t like it.” another shattering noise 

“Who the hell do you think you…” Marco trailed off, and Rowan felt someone step up beside her. Marco took a step back. 

“I don’t like you much, either.” there was no mistaking that voice. Rowan wiped blood and tears out of her eyes.

“Remus no!” She grabbed at where his wrist should be. She couldn’t stop him if he wanted to. She didn’t want to stop him if she was honest with herself. She still was going to try. 

“Aw, I thought you’d _ never _call me by name.” He spun her around, and tucked her under his arm instead. “You should have called me if you were going to get into a fight, I like fun things like that!”

“I was just picking bittersweet, it wasn’t much of a fight.” 

“Then why are you bleeding?” 

Marco was staring at them, then at the shattered headlight on his truck, then back at them. He backed up and climbed into his truck. It showered them with dirt and gravel as he drove away.

“Bullies don’t need a reason to be bullies.” Rowan swallowed her tears down. “That being said; Please say you looked like a human to him; I don’t need the kind of reputation being saved by you would give me.” 

“Of course I did… n’t.” 

She sighed in resignation, but found herself relaxing against him anyway. She didn’t even mind the smell of him at the moment. It felt far too good to have someone come to her defense like that. Then she felt something swipe across the cut.

“Oh Gods EW! Did you just lick me!?”

“... I like the taste of blood. You weren’t using it any more.” 

“You stinky compost man-” stooping out of the arm across her shoulders, she plucked a withered leaf of plantain from the scrub on the verge, and pressed it to the cut. “That’s disgusting, and I don’t even want to know what kind of germs you have.” He put his arm back around her and went to do it again, and she shoved her hand against his face, laughing, only to squeal in disgust when he licked her fingers too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was hard for me to write, because people being needlessly terrible is hard.  
The 'Slow down you're going to fast' is kind of a back-roads meme, because people (including myself) will go WAY TOO FAST on back-roads they're familiar with.  
You can take as read that this was, without the rescue at the end, pretty much what Rowan's school life was like. 
> 
> Remus gave Rowan part of his name and she then, very courteously, preceded not to use it.  
And yeah, he's kind of a meat-eater as fae go. He loves the taste of blood.


	14. Remus Attends a Human Revel

Rowan opened the door to find Remus standing on her porch, snow still clinging to his shoulders and hair. Unsurprising considering the near blizzard that was taking place. Laughter and light spilled past her out the door. 

“Oh hey, twinzies.” he said, pointing at the wreath of holly she was wearing. The leaves on his coat were holly leaves now, bright against the black material of his coat. 

“What are you doing here?”

He shrugged. 

“Bored. Lonely. Cold. C’mon, you’re having a party, let me in.” 

“There are so many reasons I’m not going to-”

“Rowan who’s your friend?” Her mother peered out the door, and Remus grinned in what Rowan was sure he thought was a winning fashion. 

“I’m her friend!” He confirmed. 

“Well come on in, don’t just stand out there.” 

“Mother!” She sounded mortified. 

“Rowan!” Her mother retorted. “It’s cold and it’s snowing, and he’s welcome tonight.” She smiled, round and fat and welcoming, then returned to the kitchen. Rowan sighed, and stepped aside, gesturing him in. 

“Wipe your shoes, please, we don’t want the floor to get wet.” 

“What on?” he moved to step on the hem of her long sweater and she twitched it out of the way. 

“That-” she pointed at the mat. He surprised her by doing just that, and shaking the snow out of his leafs in the entryway as well. Rowan contemplated him for the moment, he looked tired. There were bags under his eyes. Even in the middle of winter, he smelled of something damp and fetid. When he turned to face her, she sprayed something on him and he flinched.

“That… didn’t hurt?” he sounded surprised, and she looked horrified.

“No no, it’s rose water-” She handed him the bottle, and he turned it over in his hands. “I wouldn’t hurt you unless I had a reason to- and annoying me isn’t a reason. It’s just... The smell. My sister’s really sensitive, and” Rowan rubbed her forehead. “Please. Just. Be nice tonight?” 

There weren't a lot of people there, less than twenty, ranging in ages and clothing styles so much that Remus didn’t stand out.

He ate roast beef and donuts, and drank the mulled wine they offered. He joined in the low stakes party games, and was handed a random gift wrapped in brown paper, the same as any other guest. Rowan laughed when it turned out to be a cunningly made and brightly painted wooden snake. He promptly hid it in his coat. Later he found mead, and she found him peering at the pictures on her wall, with a cup in his hand.

“Who’s he?” Remus pointed to a wild-haired and eyed man grinning at the camera. “I like him.”

“That’s my father.” Rowan said. 

“When do I get to meet him?”

“... he’s dead.” 

“Oh.” He considered this, and tried to take a drink, finding his cup empty. “... I’m sorry for your loss?”

“Thank you.” she sounded sad, looking at another picture, one of her parents dancing. “It was a long time ago, now.” He pointed at another. 

“That’s you.” 

“Yeah. That was a year or so before he got sick.” 

“You look the same.” 

“Yeah, I age well.” she smiled. “We used to joke that he was an elf, you know. We’re all a little weird here.” 

“Rowan!” someone called from the living room. “Come tell us a story, it’s your turn.” 

“This is the story of Gawain and the Green Knight.” She started. “A long time ago, in a world where the extraordinary happened every day, there stood the Court of Camelot, home of knights and ladies. Now it happened that it was Christmas and a grand party filled the hall. Suddenly at the great doors of the hall there came a thunderous knock, one, two, three times. Before anyone could answer, both doors opened and there entered the hall a tall knight dressed all in green finery, and wreathed in vines and greenery...” She made eye contact with Remus where he stood against the wall, and found he was listening to her with great interest. At the eye contact, he grinned, and preened a little. “Removing his helmet they could see that not only his clothes, but his hair, bush like beard, and skin were green as well. In his arms he held a garland of holly, the leaves sharp enough to draw blood as bright as the berries, and a great axe. King Arthur called out, cautiously welcoming this stranger, and asked what his business was. The Green Knight responded that he had come to this warriors hall, and found only children, not knights, so perhaps they should play a game. This caused great discontentment among the court, for they were known far and wide as great fighters. Indeed, even now, we speak of the deeds of Camelot, when that hall is nothing but dust and scattered stone. They demanded to know his game. He offered to let any of them strike a blow against him, as hard as they liked, and however they liked- but in return they must allow him to return the blow in one years time. When they faltered- because clearly this was the game of a demon or a fairy, he mocked them again, calling for the strongest to stand and show their bravery. Arthur himself started to stand, when out of the crowd came Gawain, the youngest and fairest of the knights. ‘Even the least of us can match you.’ he told the green knight. ‘I will take your challenge.’ He marched up with a cup of hospitality, and stood before the green knight, who laughed, and traded his heavy axe for the full wine cup, kneeling down so the young knight might pick his blow more easily. Gawain hefted the axe, and brought it down, severing the green knight’s head with a single blow. The hall was silent, as the body shed no blood and did not move even enough to spill the cup. On the floor the knight’s head grinned, and grinned still as the body reached down to reclaim it, and set it back upon it’s neck. That done he toasted Gawain, and drank down the cup. Reclaiming his axe he told Gawain he would see him in a year, and strode from the hall.” She took a deep breath, and accepted a cup someone offered her, then continued the story. “Realising now he had engaged in a contest he could not win, Gawain was unsure what he should do- as a knight he was sworn to hold to his word, of course, but there was no way he could survive the blow. So he went out into the world, hoping to find someone who knew something of this mysterious knight, who might hold a clue. All through the winter and spring he searched, and all through the summer as well, when he found in the deepest part of the green wood a cottage, and in it, a lovely woman in a shimmering dress girded round with golden rope. She offered him hospitality, food and drink- and come the evening, a place in her bed. But seeing she wore a wedding ring, he refused, sleeping instead on the stone of the hearth. In the morning, when he awoke, he found the stone had been softened by a thick carpet of moss, and he was covered with a blanket of fallen leaves and the lovely woman praised his virtue. Then to Gawain’s surprise, she praised his courage as well, for the woman in the greenwood was the lady of the Green Knight. While he slept, the summer had ended and autumn had come, and winter- and his time of reckoning was fast approaching. The Green Knight’s lady told Gawain that he had the answer in himself, and kissed his cheeks, tying a scarf about his neck. But she warned, there was always a choice, and he had to make it. Gawain begged the lady’s favor to tell him what the choice would be. ‘You already know the choice’ she told him, and sent him away. When he turned back, the cottage was no longer visible.” She spread her hands, “Now what should Gawain do? He could run to lands far away and hope that the Green Knight wouldn’t find him.” 

“Boo.” called Remus and she ignored him. Other people in the room laughed. 

“He could return to Arthur’s court, and be killed in front of all of Camelot, or even find someone else to take his place. But none of those felt right. While there were many choices laid out before him, there was only one he could take and stay true to his heart. So Gawain sought out the Green Knight on his own, finding him in a wood seemingly unaffected by time, just as the year came to an end. The Knight seemed surprised to see Gawain there. Setting aside his sword and armor, Gawain accepted a cup from the knight, sure he would never drink it, but still took his knees, praying to the God he held most highly.” Rowan paused there, and took a breath. “Up went the axe, and then, down it came. But all he felt was a gentle tap to the back of his bared neck.”

Remus mouthed ‘boop’ at her, ending with a kissy face and she had to hide her laugh in a sip of her drink. 

“Because he had kept his word, because he had been true, the Green Knight let him go. After all, he had only asked that he be allowed to return the blow, not that he would. So what do we learn from this? Don’t make stupid bets, even if you think you’re bound to win- and always keep your word.” 

She moved to the side of the room, and someone pointed at Remus- he wasn’t sure who, he hadn’t been introduced to everyone. 

“Your turn!” 

“What.” he seemed surprised.

“You’re Rowan’s friend, right?”

“It’s so cool to meet one!” 

“She’s never invited anyone before.”

“No one came.” She corrected softly, and handed Remus a fresh cup. He sipped it and pouted at her. 

“I wanted more of that mead-” 

“Maybe later.” 

“Rowan hasn’t fed you her mead before?” one of the older guests asked. 

“Her mead?”

“She brews it.”

“I knew you were magic.” He said with starry eyes. Rowan huffed. “But I can tell a story-” and he did, he told a gory ghost story, which Rowan’s ‘sensitive’ little sister cackled gleefully at, egging him on for more details. 

People dozed off as the night went on and a friend of Rowan’s sister taught him which markers were best for drawing on people’s faces while they were asleep. Rowan’s sister preferred a brush tip eyeliner, and conscious, consenting canvases. She did makeup on him. 

“I know what you are.” She said, holding him by the nose while she applied eyeshadow. “But you can’t be that bad, or Rowan wouldn’t be your friend.” 

“I’m worse.” He chirped. 

“My Mother collects cast iron.” she told him conversationally, not letting go. A long thumbnail, filed to a point and painted the color of the inside of a mussel shell was very close to his eye, he realized suddenly. “_ I’m _ not a witch. I’m the other one. You should be nice to my sister. She’s sensitive.” She let go, and leaned back, pleased. “You look good with smokey eye-shadow. I used sparkles.” She was right. He did look good. He especially liked the lipstick. 

“Come on.” Rowan pulled his hand, heading into the yard. The snow had stopped, and she walked into it, the edges of her cloak dragging over the surface as she sunk in. 

“Why are we out here?” he asked. She pointed to the sky, just starting to lighten in the east. 

“To welcome the sun.” Rowan smiled tiredly. “It’s not every year I make it.” The sky slowly streaked with light, and painted the world. She didn’t say anything, and he just stood next to her. Finally, the sun rose up above the trees and shone on them directly with all it’s weak winter power. Rowan let it bathe her face, and sighed, breath a plume of steam. “Sometimes in winter, it gets so dark and cold you wonder if the summer will ever come again. I like spring, but I think summer is my favorite.” She shifted back and forth wiggling her toes against the cold. Then she pulled her hands out from beneath her cloak, and offered him an earthenware jug with a cork in the neck. 

“Here.” 

Not sure what else to do he took it. 

“It’s the last of the solstice mead. You seemed to like it so much. I put it in something that shouldn’t bother you. Mother asked me to tell you she’ll be more careful next year about cooking in cast iron.” 

“Next year?”

“Yeah, you’re stuck now. You’re expected.” She smiled. “We only really have a party for the winter solstice, and I figure you’ll be off doing whatever it is you do for the summer solstice, besides the biggest deal for that one is a fruit salad with cream.” 

“You have my attention.” 

Rowan laughed, and rested her head on his shoulder for a moment. 

“Good morning, goodnight and goodbye. You should probably head home.” 

“No, just good morning and goodnight.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't going to completely retell the legend of the Green Knight, but then I realized everyone might not know it. I have weird gaps in my 'everyone knows' usually having to do with magic and myth. 
> 
> Remus totally kept that rosewater. He liked the way it smelled. 
> 
> Rowan's mead has about the alcoholic density of a wine cooler at best, it's a table mead brewed with bread yeast; I've been brewing mead since before I was legally old enough to drink it. Also drinking it, but that's another story. Remus got exactly ONE cup of honey mead during the party. Drunk fae are only funny if you can predict what they're gonna do.


	15. Rumors

“I wasn’t sure I wanted to believe it, but.”

“Believe what?” She was measuring herbs and stopped. 

“Well, this fall the rumor was you were ah- dallying with a fae”

“It was what?” her voice was flat.

“Marco Spencer said he saw you- that was right before he had to be hospitalized because poison ivy got mixed with his weed-”

‘ _ Oh _ ,’ Rowan thought ‘S _ o that’s what he did _ .  _ I knew he went after Marco later. _ ’ 

“But then at the Solstice party, there he was. And you  _ matched _ , it was adorable.”

“No- that was a coincidence! I didn’t know-”

“Rowan, dear, he was wearing your perfume.” Elle gave her an understanding look. Rowan flushed with annoyance, which probably didn’t help her case. 

“That’s not what’s going on. He’s-” And something suddenly sank in, and bubbled to the surface. “He said he was my friend.”

“Yes. Men do that…” 

She sighed gustily, and tried to shake her head back into the right place, rechecking the labels on her jars. 

“Elle, Please, just to cut this short, is there anything I can say that would convince you that I am not, in fact, in that kind of relationship,  _ let alone _ with him?”

“I don’t need that tone.” 

Rowan glanced up and her lips thinned. 

“Then you don’t need the menopause tea, either, I suppose?” 

The subject got dropped. 

_ He’d Said He Was Her Friend. _

He believed it.

It was almost March and she hadn’t seen him since the Solstice party. And she missed him, even his insufferable smirks and the smell of him. Because she missed her friend. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that realization. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poison ivy in your lungs is no laughing matter.


	16. Maple Sugaring

The work of tapping the trees was something that Rowan’s younger brother did, after her mother marked the maples. Most people used plastic tubing and central reservoirs these days, but like most of what the Bakers did, sugaring was purely hobby level, intended for their own consumption. For what they did, gallon buckets worked fine. When Rowan had been young, they’d used well rinsed milk jugs, but those got blown away in heavy March winds if they hadn’t already collected some sap. But even carrying the two larger five gallon buckets on a yoke, through the snow and mud- and in some places both- collecting the sap was satisfying, so Rowan did it. Besides, out in the woods, no one could see her tip the bucket up and drink the sap. Which was, syrup on pancakes aside, the best part of making maple syrup.

“BOO!” 

The bucket jumped and the front of her sweater got drenched with maple sap. She scrambled to catch it before it dropped. Setting it down she turned to see a smirking face. Rowan scrubbed the lightly sticky sap from her face, and without even thinking threw her arms around his neck in a tight hug.

For one thing, it shared the wet, though his coat was much less absorbent than her sweater.

“Whoa- be gentle with me, little tree.” 

“You can take it.” She squeezed a little more. In addition to the faint smell of rot, he smelled a little of thawing soil- that was a smell she loved. 

“I just wasn’t expecting this change in our relationship.” Remus cooed as he grabbed her ass with both hands and she shrieked, nails coming down on his shoulders even as she shoved away. 

“Fine no more hugs!” She yelped.

“Aw, but you’re warm and soft. I could burrow into you and fall asleep for winter.” 

“Winter’s almost over, and walking compost heaps with wandering hands don’t get hugs.” 

He held them up. 

“Nope they’re still on the ends of my wrists.” he made grabby hands at her, and she ignored him in favor of pouring what remained of the sap into her larger buckets, rehanging it on the spile. 

“So have you found it?”

“No, still looking.”

“Winter sucks.” She lifted the yoke back to her neck and headed to the next tree. 

“You have  _ no  _ idea.” he moaned. “ _ Such _ an effort to keep moving. All boring and white. Blood looks good on the snow, that’s the only benefit.”

“It’s certainly is striking.” Rowan agreed. The wind blew and cut through her wet sweater and she grimaced, freeing a hand to pull it away from her chest. 

“Did you come outside at all?” he asked, trailing after her.

“Not if I could help it. It hurts my bones.” 

“How old are you?” He asked.

Rowan glared at him, setting her load down to empty another bucket. 

“Younger than you.”

“So’s this tree.” he knocked his knuckles against it. “What’s your point?” 

“No point, I’m just a little tree, like you said.” 

“Just sounds like something an old human would say.” Mockingly he curved his back and hobbled around pretending to have a cane. “Oh deary me, my poor bones. I mean you don’t look old. Your hair is gold, not silver, after all.” 

She cleaned her glasses, and smoothed her bangs self consciously. 

“When I do get old, I want to go straight from gold to silver, no going brown first.” Rowan smirked at him. “You’re going to help, I’m sure.” 

“That’s me, a helpful creature.”

“We’re a pair, aren’t we?” Rowan picked up the buckets again, swinging them a little to test the weight. 

“Are you going to be helpful to me?” He practically purred in her ear. Rowan stumbled and he kept her upright with a hand between the shoulderblades. 

“Give me something I can  _ actually  _ help with.” She snapped. “You’re looking for a grave that no one knows if it exists or not. I mean, who would have  _ buried  _ him?” Rowan kept moving to the next tapped tree, and realized that he hadn’t followed. She glanced back, suddenly worried she’d gone too far, or said the wrong thing. The first time she’d seen him in months, and she’d messed it up. Remus was standing stock still, worrying at his lower lip with his teeth, clearly deep in thought. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that; I don’t know anything about what happened, other than that he died.” She trailed off, shifting uncomfortably in place. 

“No, you’re right. I don’t know what I’m looking for, or how to find it.”

“Have you just been wandering the forest, hoping you’ll trip across it?”

“... maybe.” 

“Oh, honey.” Closing the distance between them, Rowan hugged him again.

“I thought I didn’t get any more hugs.”

“I changed my mind.”

“It’s not like I was  _ randomly _ wandering.” he muttered into her hair. “... you smell funny.”

“You’re one to talk.” 

“I’m a connoisseur.”

“More like a con-a-sewer.” 

“Weak.” 

“You’re a duke; you out-rank me any time.” Rowan pulled back and took a deep breath. “Now, I’m sticky and covered in sap-”

“Kinky.”

“And I need to finish gathering and get home before dark. So- will you please tell me everything you know about what happened.” 

“Little tree, you may want to take a seat.” 

“Oh boy.” She secured the lid on her bucket, and sat down. He started pacing, churning the light snow and mud up under his boots.

“So, like I said, I wasn’t there- and pulling teeth from a warm body is much easier than getting details about it- lots of people died, not just Him, because of the coup and the dragon…” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remus: older than her, older than that tree, probably younger than Virgil. (possibly older than Durant)   
He hits on people, it's just who he is. It doesn't mean much.  
Though, if she said yes, he'd probably go for it, and be unable to figure out why he felt weird about it later. 
> 
> Oh Rowan, third hand is a terrible way to get information...


	17. Advice

“Track the dragon.” Rowan said. It was a few days later, and he’d given her time to think about it. 

“The Dragon’s dead.”

“Yes, but she was alive when she left. No one saw what happened after she grabbed him, correct?” 

“No one’s admitted anything to me.” 

“Fair. The dragon lived in the forest, right, when it wasn’t coming to his commands?”

“Yes?”

“Then she probably had places she went. Track the dragon, I think that’s your best bet to find anything.”

“... ‘she’?”

“I wasn’t there either, you overgrown stink bug but-” Her eyes closed in a wince. “But I was  _ here _ . Things were… bad.  _ She _ .” 

“You are on my side, right?” He looked a bit concerned. 

“Well, you’re the only one I’m friends with. So you get my first loyalty after my family. And before anyone else.” 

“Aw, you like me!” He poked her in the cheek, grinning. 

“Gods only know why.” She shook her head, but smiled anyway. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to reread the climax of Love and Other Fairy Tales for this bit and I WAS NOT EMOTIONALLY READY FOR IT.  
I WILL READ IT A THOUSAND MILLION TIMES AND NEVER BE READY.


	18. Don't Thank the Fae

“Something the matter little tree?” Remus’s voice was far too close to her ear, and she jumped. He grinned at her, and she shoved him. She hadn’t even known he was there until he spoke. “You’ve been staring at that tree for a while. Did it insult your mother?”

“I used to climb trees a lot.” She said, sighing. “And look at it! It looks so good for climbing.” She reached up her hands, running them over the bark of the thick branch at about the level of her head. “I can’t any more.” She barely had any warning again as hands wrapped around her waist and he lifted her up onto the branch.

“Yeep!” She grabbed hold. “Uh… Thank you? I guess.” She was smiling though. He grinned back. Then he turned around and walked away. “Wait, how am I going to get down?”

“Not my problem!” 

“YOU STINKY BASTARD!” she yelled at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean that mostly applies to house spirits, but still...  
don't worry, she can get down, it'll just be uncomfortable.  
I went through the entire story I'd written to that point and discovered I'd managed to write it all without saying 'thank you' which is pretty good.


	19. Remus Makes another Friend

Rowan was humming to herself, and raking the gravel in the garden paths. It was the end of April, and things were starting to burst up. Speaking of- she turned towards the treeline as Remus emerged. He had something cradled in his arms, which was unusual. For a moment she wondered if he’d found it. Flipping the rake onto her shoulder, she walked towards him, trying to figure it out. 

“What have you got there?” 

“A Skunk!”

“Remus no!”

“Remus yes!” He held it up like a cat and chased her around the garden with it. To her surprise it reacted more like a cat than anything else, resigned, but it did make chirps. “C’mon look how fluffy it is, don’t you want to pet it?” 

She stopped shuffling away and looked at it dubiously, then at him.

“... you got me there, it does look pettable.”

“I pet them all the time!”

“That explains so much.” There were tiny squeaks down below her skirts and she shifted them aside to see baby skunks, hopping around their feet. Rowan bit her lips together to keep from squealing. It was in fact adorable, if somewhat worrying. “Are you holding a mother skunk hostage?” she demanded. 

“Technically I’m just carrying her around. Someone set a trap, and got her foot.” He shifted the skunk, still handling it like a cat, and displayed one paw- as well as severely burned fingers. 

“Are you okay?”

“Eh, I will be.”

Tentatively Rowan reached out and examined the paw. “This could be a lot worse. Stay here.” Carefully stepping over the swarm of skunk kittens, she hurried down the path and into her green house. This early, fresh plants were scarce but that was why she made ointments. Back in the garden, Remus had sat down and had a lapful of skunks. 

“Aw, you look like the stinkiest Disney Princess.” Rowan knelt down. “Can you hold up her paw again?” He did and she wiped it with a damp cloth and dabbed a healing ointment onto the wound, before closing her hands around it. “Just a little faster.” She whispered into her hands. Even calm skunks smelled and it was hard to lower her head that close, exhaling gently. When Rowan’s hands opened, the wound was thoroughly scabbed over. “There we go.” Tentatively she did stroke the soft black and white fur, before tucking her hands back onto her knees and waiting. Remus let go of the skunk and they both watched her lead her brood back into the forest. Rowan picked up Remus’s hand and he stared at her, as she uncorked a different jar. 

“This one is for you. Aloe, lavender, plantain and comfrey. It should soothe the burn.” She brushed her fingers over his, spreading it. 

“I’m sticky.” he said, sounding delighted. 

“Now then, where did you find that trap? Was it far? Because they are required by law to have those things up by this time of year, and I would very much like to find who owns it and-”

“Clamp it onto his dick!”

Rowan paused. 

“Not what I was going to say, but tempting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> careful Remus your Seelie is showing again. He just likes skunks. And raccoons. Actually for all he likes hunting and eating meat, he likes lots of animals. 
> 
> He is very resistant to many anti-fae charms, which would make him a valuable part of any court. You know if he wasn't crazy.
> 
> Rowan does magic on camera for the first time, accelerating healing, which is one of the things she's good at, other than mixing teas and ointments.


	20. Not Going Maying

She painted his nails gold, singing ‘Scarborough Faire’. Even though he insisted she wasn’t good at singing, he still liked it when she did. 

“There you go. All pretty.” Rowan smiled. “Now don’t come near me until like… the third. I don’t want to deal with you on Walpurgis  _ or  _ Beltane.” 

“Aw, but who’s going to take you Maying?”

“Even if I did that, it wouldn’t be you.” 

He gave an elaborate pout and she fought the urge to shove the lip back in. Nothing good came of getting close to his mouth. He’d bitten her last time, and frankly she’d deserved it. 

“Tell you what,” she sighed, “We’ve got time before dark, let me teach you a song you might like.” 

“Risky~” he teased. “Don’t you know you shouldn’t listen to fae sing.”

“... if there is one fairy in the entire forest whose voice matches mine, it’s almost certainly you.” she started on her own nails rather than look him in the eye. 

“Owch.” 

“Now wait for the chorus, because that’s the part I think you’ll like.  [ ~ I woke up this morning, I had a scone and a large house blend, And then a little conversation with my squirrel and chipmunk friends, I said I'm sick and tired of winter, And I wish that it was spring~ ”  ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v-ohxxZBBFA)

He did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the linked song does include naughty language.


	21. Rowan Makes Another Friend

“Guess what?”

“Butt.”

“No butt! Guess what!” 

“You got laid.”

Rowan worked her jaw for a moment. 

“That’s where your mind goes?”

“It’s what _ I’m _thinking about.”

“Me having sex?”

“Not so much the first part, but heavy on the second.” he wiggled his eyebrows. “Very heavy petting.” 

“I’m suddenly glad I made a new friend.”

“What?” He looked a bit upset. “You can’t have a new friend, you’re _ my _friend.” 

“It’s okay, stinkbug. You can be friends with them too.” Rowan fished in her cowl collar and came up with a large garter snake, which coiled around her wrist grouchily having been dislodged from the warmth it had been tucked in. “Aren’t they cute? I found them half drowned after the rain last night, but they should be okay by evening if they stay warm.” She adjusted the snake as it shifted about. “I was worried they’d get on the road and get smooshed. Look at how big they are.” The snake was almost two feet long, decently sized for a garter snake. 

Reaching out Remus took the snake in his hands. It curled up happily, since his hands ran warm, and started investigating his sleeve. 

“I’m stealing your friend.” Remus said seriously, as the snake’s tongue tickled the base of his thumb. Rowan laughed. 

“That’s okay, you’re probably in a better place to take care of them.” She stroked her fingers over the snakes back, as it slid up Remus’s sleeve. “Bye friend.” Rowan giggled. 

“You can come into my coat too.” he waggled his eyebrows at her, undoing the top toggle. 

“Hard pass. I know where you’ve been.”

“Oh not even a _ little _.” 

“Give me my snake back.”

“I told you; I’m stealing them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> his body temperature runs warm because he's Summer


	22. The Ocean

She’d been taking a break in the shade and Remus had wandered out of the woods and laid his head in her lap.

“You.” Rowan said “Are no kind of unicorn.”

“I could show you my horn-”

“Do not.” she laughed, and idly starting picking burrs out of his hair. “How is it going?” 

“Terrible.” he sighed. “There are still traces of it all over the forest, but I can’t tell which order they were laid down in.” 

“Mnnn.” She flicked a burr away and started on another. “What’s the ocean like?”

“You should go yourself. You don’t have a reason to stay here.”

“It would take days. I like my own bed.”

“Lazy little tree.” 

“Trees are not known for their wandering ways.” She agreed. It was the first week of June and the air buzzed like summer. 

“...big. So big. A great blue line as far as you can see. Full of salt and magic. Never still. Roaring. Second prettiest, most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen.” 

“What about unicorns?”

“_ Third _ most terrifying thing. Unicorns I mean. They mean business.” 

“You’ve never had to deal with an entitled middle aged white person.” She yanked at another burr, but he didn’t wince. “But they do rank below fae. Only barely.” 

“Aw, you think I’m terrifying.”

“Where did you even find this many burrs this time of year?”

“Bold of you to assume they haven’t been there the whole winter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot imagine never seeing the ocean.


	23. Relationship Ended with Paul, Remus is now My Big Brother

“Why are you crying? You’re not an aspen or a willow.” 

Startled the next sob came out more of a hiccup, and Rowan scrubbed at her face. She’d purposely come out to the middle of a field so she wouldn’t disturb anyone, and she ended up being the one disturbed. 

“Don’t you have someplace to be?” she demanded trying to get annoyance going to drown out her misery.

“No.” He looked surprised. 

The next sob sounded like a laugh, but she was still crying. 

“I’m sorry.” She sobbed. “I just… I miss my brother. He was horrible, but I love him and I miss him, and his birthday is coming up.”

“Is he dead too?”

“No, he’s just… gone. He hates Wickhills. I think he hates our mother.” She blew her nose. “It feels like he hates me. It hurts.” 

Remus flopped down in the grass beside her.

“Sounds like it does.” 

“Missing people sucks, doesn’t it?” She asked, blowing her nose again. 

“Yeah.” 

“It’s not like he was a  _ good  _ brother.” Rowan admitted. She choked on a sob. “You know I spent half my childhood thinking I was a changeling? I don’t know how he convinced me. You couldn’t get me to dry cast iron for love or money and I was ridiculously careful handling it at all. Every time I managed to talk myself out of it, he’d say something to make me wonder again.” She cried too hard to talk for a moment, then swallowed. “Stupid. He’d be mean to me just to ‘toughen me up for the real world’ like I wasn’t getting enough of it at school. Stupid I’m too fucking stupid to be loved. I was stupid my entire childhood and it’s good I’m broken now, because I’m still too fucking stupid.” Rowan was crying so hard now it felt like she was drowning and words poured out of her, every horrible thought she’d had. “He shoved me into a fairy ring once, and I came right back out and he said even fairies didn’t want me. It was all just lies, lies, lies. I didn’t fear death because I wanted to be dead, for everything just to be over. But I’m alive, and I just keep going day after day, with pain and everything else. Because that’s all I have. Just keep going, keep being kind. Keep trying. Keep going. Keep pretending I’m not broken, that I don’t need friends, as long as I’m useful. I  _ wanted  _ it to be true, Remus, I wanted it so much, even though I love my family, just for the chance that I might wake up and feel like I  _ belonged  _ somewhere.” 

“Shh shh.” he murmured, because he was holding her now. “You shouldn’t say things like that little tree.”

“I know.” she sobbed into his shoulder. “I know.” She kept sobbing and babbling though, trying to stop and never quite managing it, apologizing frequently as she did. After a long time her breathing calmed, but she was absolutely unconscious. Frankly, he wasn’t sure what to do. He had several conflicting ideas. She’d practically given him permission to abduct her. That was a fascinating concept. He shifted his arms and picked her up. Having cried herself into complete exhaustion, she just turned her face into his mantle. Stupidly trusting.

Remus stood on the Baker’s porch kind of wondering what he was going to do next. He could leave Rowan on the porch furniture, he could break open her window and put her to bed- he could even still take her away, despite having brought her home first. 

“Oh hello.” Rowan’s mother had opened the door, and stared at him, holding her daughter. “Is everything fine?” she asked. Uncertainly, he offered Rowan over. “I can’t lift her, ah… “ she looked at him for a long moment. “... Leaf. Why don’t you come in? I have sweet bread.” 

“Oooh. Real bread or-”

“Fresh baked.” She held the door open for him so he could carry Rowan inside. “Th- I’m glad you brought her back; what happened?”

“She was crying.” 

“Oh. Her brother.”

He put her on the couch. 

“It’s okay, I’ve got her.”

The warmth of the smile Rowan’s mother turned on him was baffling. 

“Let me feed you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which the author vents about her own lousy relationship with her older brother, and some of Rowan's problems are explored.


	24. Remus Does Something Stupid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warnings for described wounds and wound treatment; and mention of a nonconsentual kiss

Rowan saw her family off on a trip. She ached everywhere, and was longing to just lay in bed and maybe play puzzle games on her phone for the entire weekend. It wasn’t great, missing out on the conference where her mother was going to be the keynote speaker, but there was no way she’d be able to deal with that many people this weekend. But instead of going in the front door, Rowan paced around the house, taking deep breaths of the morning air. Even with the windows open, if she was going to be in bed all weekend, better to get as much fresh air now. Passing the rowan tree, she almost missed the figure sitting in the shade-slumped rather. She huffed softly, and decided to give her best attempt at sneaking up on him for a change, ghosting her feet quietly over the yard and ducking slightly to get under the lowest branches. The smell of blood was strong today, and she wondered why until his head tipped to the side to face her. 

“Hi!” he said brightly. His eye was swollen shut, face black and blue; one side of his mustache stuck to his face with blood- she could see another bruise at the edge of his collar. He didn’t show much skin, but what she saw was in rough shape. Adrenaline surged through her body like a physical blow.

“Oh my gods.” She gulped and looked around pulling at his arm. “Get up, get up, you can come into my greenhouse, don’t just sit there, what if my family had seen you?”

“Oh can I say hi to them?” 

“No. Your face is a massive bleeding bruise.” 

“That explains why it hurts.” he said cheerfully, swaying into her. She put her hands up, steadying him, and they felt wet. Looking down she saw a dark stain on her palm, blood that had been hidden by the color of his clothes.

“When did this happen?”

“Last night…” 

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” she demanded as they staggered into the glass sided room.

“Well, I was  _ going  _ to; but then I just sat down for a minute under the tree, and didn’t feel like standing back up.” 

He leaned against the counter as she cleared off the center table. She called it at greenhouse, but it was more of a glass sided room attached to the back of the house, surrounded by her herb garden. There were potted plants, and cabinets and radiators that kept it reasonably warm in the winter. It was kind of a sanctuary and workroom in one. Hooking a footstool over she got him seated on the table, and bit her lips together. 

“Take it off.” She demanded, hands going to the clasps of his coat.

“What  _ now _ ?” The eye that was open looked surprised. “Well, if you insist…” he unbuckled his belt. 

“So I can treat your wounds, idiot.” she growled, easing the coat off. He yelped as the fabric pulled at dried blood, opening the cuts again. She tossed it on a chair, and fished in her drawers, frowning. “The shirts gotta go too, do you have a knife?”

“I am learning  _ so  _ much about your kinks today.” 

She held up a small, curved steel blade. 

“Do you want this close to your skin, or do you have a knife? I might have a copper blade somewhere, but I’d like to get on with this since the bleeding’s started up again.”

“If you want to get me naked-” Remus tried to pull his shirt off but couldn’t raise his arm enough. He tried twice before stopping “... in my right boot.” she fished down the side, ignoring his giggles, and pulled it out, carefully cutting the blood soaked fabric away. It looked even worse without the fabric clotting it. 

“How did this happen?” She started washing the largest wounds.

“Oh I kissed the witch consort.” he said smiling hard enough his lip split open again.

“You…. You idiot! Why would you do that?!”

“I thought it would be funny!” 

“Is this funny?” Rowan fought the urge to jab him in an open wound. “Besides, don’t you hate him?” 

He shrugged. 

“You’re going to die. You’re going to get yourself killed and I’m never going to find out what happened to you and I’ll spend the rest of my life wondering what happened to you.” She clutched at her hair, smearing blood into it. Remus stared at her as she started crying. 

“You’d miss me?” 

She lay her head on the table beside him and covered it with her arms. After a few moments of watching her shoulders shake, he put an arm around her.

“Stop it.” She sobbed. “You’re horrible and you smell bad and I hate you.”

“No you don’t.” He squeezed, pulling her against him, which stained her shirt further.

“No I don’t but I  _ should _ .” she agreed. After a moment she pulled away, and went back to work, sniffing and rubbing her nose on the back of her hand, trying to get herself under control. She could cry later. “Did he stab you?”

“If he had, I’d be dead.” Remus looked wistful for a moment, like he was contemplating it. “He broke my nose and blacked my eye. Also bit my tongue.” 

She shook her head. She might care for Remus more than she should, but she couldn’t deny he kind of deserved  _ that _ , at least. 

“His  _ friend _ stabbed me, lovely woman, so deep I almost took her blade with me, and then it was a party and I was a pinata, and everyone wanted a hit!” He looked down at the largest wound and started to poke at it. “I bet I could get my whole finger in there…” 

“DO NOT!” she yelped, lunging for his hand. 

“Boop.” He stuck a finger into her mouth and she fought the urge to bite down. 

“Yuck! What was that?”

“Now we’re even!” he chirped.

“Did you just stick your blood in my mouth?!” she demanded, grabbing a watering can and drinking from it directly. 

“Not very much. How did it taste?”

“Like you smell!” She wiped her mouth and made a face. The shock had stopped her tears for now, though. “Hold still, you garbage fire, you look like you were dragged through a threshing machine.

“It’s better than it was!”

She hissed at him and kept working. When the worst of it had been cleaned up and bandaged with cheese cloth that had been used to strain herbs- what she had on hand, she started mixing a poultice for the smaller hurts, dabbing the fresh herbs on small cuts and bruises, including a pack on his eye. 

“You’re really making too big a deal out of this.” 

“Open your mouth.” she ordered testily, and when he did, she popped a piece of raw honeycomb in. “Now shut it and keep it shut.” Like a child given a sweet it did seem to pacify him for the moment. The bandage on the big gash on his ribs and the stab were starting to bleed through. “...I’ll be right back.” 

Rowan scrubbed her hands down the front of her smock, and grabbed the phone on her way up the stairs, dialing her mother’s cell phone. It hadn’t even been an hour since her family had left, and she’d found Remus under her tree. 

“I know you’re driving and all… ” She looked down at herself, wincing at the stains. “But uh. Hypothetically, if a human got some fae blood in their mouth, would that be bad?”

“Were they underhill?” Her mother’s voice broke up a bit. 

“No.”

“Hypothetically how much?”

“Not much at all.”

“Then they should be hypothetically fine. We’re leaving the area, dear, hypothetically, do we need to turn around?”

“No. Have a good time. Wow ‘em. I love you.” Hanging up the phone, she dug in her mother’s sewing basket, finding the gold needle she remembered. It was plated, but that should be good enough. Rowan found a spool of silk thread as well. Heading back down the stairs she washed her hands, before going into the library, going through the shelves until she found the book she wanted- explaining how to treat stab wounds and make suture stitches. Returning to her workroom she discovered that Remus had eaten the rest of the raw honey in her pot and fallen asleep. Probably better. For a moment she wished he was human. She could heal humans, animals. She could take him to a hospital. She wouldn’t need to do this. She needed to do this. She removed the bandage, and cleaned the wound again, clearing the edges. Threading the golden needle, Rowan got to work. 

Once they were closed, she dressed the biggest injuries with her best herbal mixture, and laid her hands over the bandage. Remus had slept through it, and was snoring slightly now. 

Taking a deep breath, she called on her magic. This was what she was good at after all. Herbs and healing. She did as she’d been taught, pulling her energy up through herself and into her patient, encouraging the wounds to heal, giving energy to do so. She pictured a closed wound, forcing the image of the gaping red mouth from her mind. Rowan leaned down, inhaling the smell of rot and roses, just barely covered with the green smell of ointments and the smell of blood and exhaled slowly. “Heal.” She breathed. “Close.” When she finally raised her head, she left her hands spread over the bandages and his skin, feeling the steady intake and exhale of breath, wondering if it was the normal heat of his skin, or infection. Her face twisted, fear and exhaustion making her knees weak. 

What next? Better to keep busy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Personally I find the chain of events that led up to this (that night) pretty interesting. While overall Remus's fault, it wasn't entirely his fault.  
He could have gotten his entire finger in there, for the record.


	25. Rowan Does Something Stupid

Curled on the couch, Rowan was not sleeping well at all and woke to the sound of hoofbeats. It had gotten dark, since she last looked up. She ran through the back door of the greenhouse, in time to see Remus starting to open the door. Rowan grabbed the back of his pants and yanked, pulling him off balance. 

“Are you out of your mind?” She demanded.

“Yes?” he was still covered in bruises, but both eyes could open now. Unlatched, the door swung open. There were, as she’d feared mounted fae in her backyard. Rowan did not feel prepared for this, but she had grabbed a bundle from her room before coming. Her heart was in her throat. But that was her not them. This wasn’t outside fear, like when she’d hear the horns in the woods when she was young, and hide under the bed. She fought back a cackle. A less than a years time, and Remus had gone from finding things that frightened her to making her stand up to something very near to one of her greatest fears. Stepping just outside the greenhouse door, she planted her feet, and pushed past her first thoughts and her second ones. There weren’t that many of them; a half dozen. More than enough to track down a half-dead fae. They seemed surprised to see her. 

“Please go away.” she asked politely, hands clutched against her bundle. 

“We want him.” 

“Do you have any authority?” They seemed puzzled by that question. She swallowed down fear again. “If you don’t, then you’re just a… a fairy lynch mob, hoping to curry favor by jumping on someone on the forest prince’s shit list. Please go away.” 

“We don’t have to listen to you.”

“He’s in my home, he’s eaten my food, and if you try to take him without his consent,  _ I will object. _ I am a witch, and this is my home. He’s my friend, and I will defend him.” It sounded stupid, but words were important. “Please.” she repeated a third time, voice cracking. “Go away.” 

Two things happened at once; one of the fae in front moved forward and Remus grabbed her arm. 

“Little tree-” he started. 

She flung her shawl- her good one made of painted silk- over his head and clawed the cover off her bundle. Out came a carved wooden haft, and a tapered black head. Reaching into the head she pulled out a wad of something. The apparent leader was dismounting.

“Cover your ears.” Rowan ordered.

“What?”

“COVER YOUR GODDAMN EARS, REMUS.” She yelled. At the back of the group, one of them started to back up, clearly the smartest of them. Maybe they’d recognized the shape, or the material. The iron bell in her hand rang loudly enough that  _ her  _ head ached from it. It probably wouldn’t actually hurt them, but she was hoping it would scare them off. It had a better effect than she’d expected; probably because they hadn’t been expecting it, and it had panicked their steeds. As they dashed off, she shuffled backwards, shutting, then locking the greenhouse door, and muffled the bell’s clapper, before wrapping it in a silk bag again. It had belonged to her grandfather, who’d been a minister. It was as close to an iron churchbell as could be carried around. And it also weighed as much as a small sledgehammer, if push came to shove. Her shoulder ached. Looking around, she found Remus under the worktable, hands pressed to his ears, stuffing the silk of the shawl into them. Rowan waited, listening for sounds of people outside, and to him. Even with the warning it had probably hurt him as well. She was far enough from the nearest neighbor that no one would have heard it, probably. 

“I’m sorry.” She said after several minutes, lowering herself down to the floor to sit across from him. 

“Ow.” it was a petulant whine. 

Rowan winced. 

“I really am. I couldn’t give you more warning than that.”

“You’re crazy.” He whined.

“I’m not the one who kissed a man he hated for a joke.” 

“I’m not the one who annoyed a bunch of unseelie... Well, tonight.” 

She stuck her tongue out at him, and he returned the gesture. His face was still half hidden by her shawl. She rested her elbows on her crossed legs. 

“You don’t need to remind me. I’m scared enough.” 

Remus pulled the shawl off his head slowly, the silk doing his messy hair absolutely no favors. He shoved it back at her.

“They don’t need authority.” Remus mumbled, not looking at her. 

“Well they do to take you from my house.” She retorted. 

“You can’t stop them.” 

“I can be very inventive.”

“That’s why I like you, but no, really. I doubt the bell will work twice.” 

“I have a shotgun and rocksalt.” 

He grinned fondly at her. “You’re adorable. Sounds like you’re ready to fight all of underhill for me.” 

She glared at him.

“... I’m not worth it.” 

“That’s not how this works.” She said, and swallowed. “You’re… you’re my friend. That makes you worth it.” 

“Stupid little tree.”

“I know.” Rowan rubbed at her eyes. She didn’t want to cry again. She was already too tired for all of this.

“I used to hunt with them. They’ll be back.” 

She frowned in a much sadder way, and bit her lips together as her stomach sank at the implications of what he’d said, then shook it off. 

“Then you’d better come in the house proper. Your coat’s in there anyway, I was mending it.” If she used the table to haul herself up, neither of them said anything.

“Here, come through the kitchen.”

“You know I think I’d rather not.” He surveyed the room from the doorway. “Little tree, that is a truly  _ terrifying  _ amount of cast iron.” 

“Well you’re not wrong.” She admitted. The exposed beams of the ceiling were lined with nails, each holding at least one piece, dangling within arms reach. There was more decorating the hearth, which shared space with a wood cook stove. “My mother collects it.”

“Yes, your sister said. Oh wait what’s that-” he stepped into the room gingerly, and moved to a narrow set of shelves that ran floor to ceiling. It was filled with jars of varying sizes, some stacked on top of each-other. The color of the contents ranged from the palest gold to a nearly black amber. 

“That’s another thing she collects. Honey.”

“Do you think she’d adopt me?” 

“You are not stealing my mother for her honey collection.”

“I’d share!” 

“The honey or my mother?”

“Yes.” 

“Remus, no.” she sighed. 

“You do know ‘no’ isn’t part of my name, right?” he laughed.

“Give it time.” 

“You’re the only one who ever says it.”

“That surprises me a lot.” 

The draw of a hundred different flavors of honey was not quite enough to get him to stay for any length of time with the cast iron, and Rowan prodded him into the living room, and he flopped onto the couch. She settled back down, and picked up his coat from where it had been lying on the coffee table, spreading it over her lap, and finding where she’d left off.

Uncertain of what it was made out of, she’d spot cleaned the coat to get as much blood out of it as possible. It felt- and acted a little bit like deer skin, and the inside was lined with something soft, a very fine linen or silk. It also had a surprising number of interior pockets, which she’d emptied into a dish-towel lined bowl carefully. There were nuts, rocks, a piece of beach glass, small bones, a single glove, dried leaves and flowers, a small bag that squished unpleasantly, a bottle with what looked like a tooth, broken jewelry- the sorts of things a child would keep in a treasure box. She was careful with the items because clearly they all meant something to him. Or maybe they meant nothing. There was a silk leaf from her Halloween costume that she was very tempted to disappear. Too late now, he’d noticed and was sorting through it himself.

“You don’t need to do that.” he said idly. “It’s seen worse.” 

“...I would point to shoulder where there were  _ matching holes in front and back _ and ask about that one, but you’d probably tell me in detail, and I’ve already sewn them up.” 

He stroked his hand over the glove, idly, and then left it lying on his thigh as he continued playing with the junk from his pockets. 

“I meant I can fix it myself.” he stirred the trinkets with his fingers. “You need to stop doing things for me.” 

“Well  _ that’s  _ a change.” She snorted. Rowan cut the thread she’d been working on. Remus immediately started tugging at the edge of the coat. 

“Not wanting to be in your debt is not the same thing as wanting you to do one, specific thing.” He pouted, and she let him reclaim his coat, which he shrugged on immediately. It didn’t bother her at all to see the bandages covered up. 

“You’re not in my debt.” She told him, rubbing at her eyes. 

“You never let me do things for you.” 

“The only things you offer to do I don’t want.” 

“First off, your loss, I’m  _ very  _ good at it;”

“Ew.”

“Secondly, I must have offered to do something for you other than you-” 

“... you offered to steal things for me once, but that was for a deal. You put me in a tree once, but you didn’t ask, I didn’t accept,  _ and  _ you left me there.”

He laughed. “Your face.” The coat wasn’t closed yet, as he was putting things back into the pockets. Rowan was fairly sure there was magic at work there, but it could have just been good tailoring. “I’ve offered violence, too.”

“Which I also don’t want.”

“Yes you do.”

“Yes I do sometimes, but I don’t want to want it.” She leaned on the back of the couch, resting her head on her folded arms. “Hey, what ever happened to the snake?” 

“Demeter?” Remus was fastening his jacket. “Last I saw her she was fine. There’s only so long a snake can live in someone’s pocket.” 

“You named them Demeter?” 

“Would you believe me if I said I could talk to snakes?”

“Not when you put it like that.” 

“Then yes.” 

Rowan smiled, letting her eyes close. 

“Good, I wouldn’t have wanted her to get hurt last night.” Rowan felt a bit floaty, she supposed she was dozing off. “Why Demeter?”

“I like the sound of it; and the legend where someone the goddess loved was taken from her, so she wrecked everyone’s shit until the other gods made them give them back appealed.” Something- someone nudged her arm, and she slipped down onto the couch, face colliding with Remus’s leg.

“There we go.” Fingers were in the hair on the back of her head before she could sit back up, finding knots at the base of her braid which should have been brushed days ago. “Shh little tree. Reciprocity.”

“That’s a big word for a compost heap.” she mumbled, but shifted so her legs were on the couch and her face was more on his leg. 

“Just let me do something for you.” he started undoing her braid. “Relax. Trust me.”

“Sounds like a recipe for disaster.” 

“It is, but go ahead.” He was finger combing her hair, spreading it out like a cape and it felt nice, and relaxing. “Get some sleep.” 

“Mnn.” Rowan’s nose wrinkled and her fingers latched on to the top of his boot. “No disappearing. Wake me up if something happens.” 

“Careful. People are going to think you like me.” 

“Gonna predecease you, you fae bastard.” 

“Sure, ruin my plans.”

“Race you.” she mumbled nonsensically into his leg. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rowan, like myself and other sensible people is terrified of the Hunt. No jokes, I had night mares about the wildhunt.  
(It wasn't a hunt, it was some good old boys having some fun. Because Fae are fucked up like that.)  
Iron church-bells reportedly chase fae away. Iron bells are loud; and they make my head hurt; I have one beside my front door, and I've rung it twice and regretted both times.  
Both my mother's cast iron collection and her honey collection are real things. 
> 
> Silk is often used as a magical insulator, which is why her bell was wrapped in it, and why she put a silk shawl over Remus' head. 
> 
> Remus's pocket junk makes me happy. Rowan missed a pocket and he doesn't want her to accidentally find it, because there's a secret in it. Demeter is living her best life in Remus's home, which is just as filled with random stuff as his pockets.


	26. Remus and Rowan Agree To Do Something Stupid Together

Rowan woke up to the phone ringing and the unwanted knowledge that morning wood happened to men regardless of species. She was being cuddled quite firmly too, Remus snored and was quite a bit stronger than she was. Anatomy being anatomy, a well placed elbow gained her enough freedom to answer the phone, putting it on speaker and collapsing back onto the couch holding it, no longer crushed against someone. 

“Baker residence.”

“Rowan, help!” Her mother’s voice came out of the phone. “I’ve been looking for an hour, and I can’t find my contacts, and neither can your brother, and I have to get to my first class!”

“Mother-” Rowan sighed, shaking her head, trying to get more awake. “Calm down, you know that makes it harder to find things. An hour, _ really _?”

“Rowan~” her mother was pretty much whining. “_ Please _. Can you just-”

Rowan sighed, and closed her eyes, still holding up the phone. The empty hand came up as if she was reaching for something. 

“... they’re in their case.” She said after a moment. “... They’re between the nightstand and the bed.” 

There were sounds of furniture being moved, and an exclamation of glee.

“Yes! There they are! I was sure I’d looked there. Thank you.”

“What was that?” Remus asked, staring at her. He looked altogether too awake, considering, and completely recovered.

“Oh, is that Leaf?” Rowan’s mother asked. “Hello!”

“Too bad I missed you!” He chirped. “I’ll have to come visiting again.” 

“I swear mother if you say ‘any time’ I’m going to gut you.” Rowan growled.

There was a pause. 

“I’ll look forward to it! Bye both of you!” 

“I love you.” 

“Love you too!” She hung up. 

“... ‘Leaf’?”

Remus grinned at her, his teeth looking sharp. 

“She calls me Leaf and feeds me cookies. What was that?”

“I’m… good at finding things.” 

He leaned back and looked at her thoughtfully. He didn’t say anything, and the look became more of a stare. At last, she broke. 

“What?” 

“I figured it out.”

“Figured what out?” 

“How to get you to help me.” 

She stared at him. 

“You-”

He leaned forward. 

“Please.” he said quietly in her ear. She shivered sharply. 

“Don’t.”

“Please, Rowan.” he repeated. “Help me. Help me find what’s left of him.” 

Rowan tensed up, then let her shoulders drop. He was right. He had her. 

“The rest of the summer.” She mumbled. 

“What?”

“The rest of the summer. I’ll help you look for the rest for the summer to the best of my abilities, to find it. The Serpent King’s Grave. Or his remains. To help you.” His face lit up and she put a warding finger out. “BUT- you have to apologize for your actions-”

“Okay”

“To the Spider Prince.”

“Less okay.”

“And his … cons- boyfriends.” a much better word. Less surreal. What was her life now? She just wanted to make ointments and teas and string beads. 

“Oh COME ON.” He whined as he flopped theatrically back on the couch. 

“You will bow your head, if that’s what they ask;” She demanded. “And in exchange, I’ll help you. Do we have a deal?”

He pursed his lips thinking it over. His mustache twitched. 

“You’ll help me however I ask?”

“I will help you to the best of my ability.” She repeated. 

“Not even something for you?” he seemed confused. 

“What?”

“You’re making a deal, and it’s not for you? What do _ you _get out of making me apologize? You won’t even see it.”

‘_ No _ .’ she thought ‘ _ it’s for you _.’ but she didn’t say anything, crossing her arms over her chest.

“... I want the rest of your year.” He frowned. 

“I wouldn’t do you any good in winter.” 

“How about the fall?”

“Summer lasts until the fall equinox.” 

The tip of his tongue stuck out of his mouth as he mentally tallied the days. 

“It had better be a formal thing.” He admitted at last. “You have no idea how _ little _I want to do that.” 

“Fair.” She retorted. “I’m not exactly thrilled at spending my entire summer plumbing the depths of a possibly hostile forest, instead of doing my job.” 

“Oh, it’s more than _ possibly _hostile.”

“Great, already regretting my decision.” She covered her face with her hands. “Will you keep me safe?”

“What?”

“Will you keep me safe? Not part of the deal, just… will you do your best? I may be a witch, but I’m soft and pink and squishy.” 

“It’s no fun when I’m not the one scaring you.” He put his hand on top of her head. Rowan gave a nauseous little burp and he laughed, pressing down on her head to try and get her to do it again. 

“Okay, this is all getting tabled until we’ve eaten something and I’ve had some tea.” She looked at him critically. “And _ you _are going shower.” 

“You can’t make me.”

“Do you want to test that?” 

“I want breakfast.”

“Then comb your face and hands and wash your hair!”

He tried to process that statement.

“I don’t have hair on my hands…” he looked at both sides, as if to check. 

Rowan cackled. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or the stress, or even the lack of food, but somehow his confusion was hilarious. 

“I got you- and all it took was my Grandmother’s nonsense.” she got a hold of herself. “The bathroom is through that door, at least get whatever blood I missed off, while I go find a pan that’s not cast iron.” 

Rowan made steak and eggs, because she was hungry. She’d made it in a crepe pan, because that was the first copper pan she’d found. His hair was wet when he came back, which amused her more than it should have. But the fact he’d clearly taken more time to groom his mustache back into the preferred shape than he had cleaning anything else just made her feel… happy somehow. That even through everything, he was himself. Neither of them relaxed however, sitting awkwardly in the dining room, facing each other but looking out the windows. 

“Well this is boring.” he commented, licking meat juice from his fingers. 

“I think a little boring is good, right now.” she mumbled. “Exciting yesterday, exciting tomorrow, boring today.” 

“Yesterday’s gone, tomorrow never comes. Better to do things today.” Remus countered. She kicked him. 

“No sounding wise. I’ll think you got replaced with someone else.” She said it like a joke, but choked on it, staring at him intensely. He’d been out of her sight. He might be. He could be. It was a stupid, crazy thing to be worried about and it tore through her like wildfire, suddenly. She stared at him, fingers clenched in her lap, looking for some sign either way. He’d gone back to licking the last of the juices from the plate with his fingers.

“You know what always confused me about the God humans talk about?” he said suddenly, fingers coming out of his mouth. “Comes up with fucking, right? Then goes and makes things that _ don’t. _ What a waste.” 

Rowan laughed. No, that was Remus.

“Don’t look at me.” she said loftily, trying to stifle it. “My Gods Fuck.” 

“And _ you _don’t. Again, a waste.” He started fluffing his hair out with his fingers. “I mean, what did worms ever do to this God?”

“No wait, I know this-” Rowan held up a finger. “Worms _ do _ fuck. Worms fuck both ways at once. They’re hermaphrodites.” 

Remus stared at her for a long moment.

“_ Jealous~ _... why do you know that?”

“Trivia night. It’s kind of like a riddle game only there’s only one person asking the questions, and people compete to see how many they can answer.” 

“Neat.”

  
“Do you interact with humans much?” She asked, suddenly. “I mean, did you. Before.”

“Not in extended periods. Most humans can be pretty dull. Especially after you play with them for a while.” He reached out and adjusted a bit of her bangs, moving them away from her glasses. “Not all of them, no worries, little tree.”

“I think that is the opposite of reassuring, but ok.” She retaliated by rubbing his hair widely, sending waving tendrils all over the place. He grinned. Leaving him alone, she finally changed out of her bloodstained smock and skirt, ignoring the elaborate crown of braids and flowers she’d acquired while she was asleep. She thudded back down the stairs in a clean dress, and bare feet, leaning on the banisters. Remus was playing with one of the cats, a fluffy irritable tortoiseshell. 

“Is this your familiar?” he asked. 

“No, I don’t have one. She’s just a mouser who doesn’t do her job.” she dropped to the floor and rolled the cat over on her back, checking for ticks. 

“I thought witches had familiars.”

“Herb-witch.” she corrected. “I’m not that strong.” 

“I don’t think anyone should second guess your strength, little tree.” he played with the cat’s paws and she took a swipe at him. He hissed right back and, offended the cat wandered away. 

“So. Formal deal.” Rowan said at last. She could have let it go, hoping he’d forget about it. But hearing Remus say ‘please’ had hit her hard. It hadn’t been anything she’d expected. 

He straightened up. 

“You’re really going to do it.”

“I said I would. I haven’t given my word yet, but I did say I would.” She tried to climb to her feet, and he got up first, pulling her up easily. “We worked out terms.” She headed towards the back door. “Let’s go.”

“All the way to the tree? You’re uh. Barefoot, I don’t think that’s good for humans.” 

She shook her head. 

“I _ cannot _walk that far today.” she sighed, and went to one of the drawers in her workshop. She produced a piece of unfinished wood, too thick to be a wand, with broken rough edges at each end. “Will this work?” It resonated, even in the green house, which he could now feel was full of human magic. It resonated in a strangely familiar way. 

“Why do you have that?”

“Really? You can’t think of a single reason a witch, even an herb-witch, might have a piece of wood from a tree that’s witnessed a hundred oaths?” She produced a bit of cloth from her pocket. It was a hair ribbon, not a piece of clothing, but the feeling was definitely the same, and it wasn’t like she had to get his attention. She tied it around the branch anyway. “Do you think I never went there in daylight, just to see? I’ve got a dangerous amount of curiosity, to go with my other, numerous flaws.” It had been lying underneath the tree the first time she’d gone, and Rowan had politely thanked the tree before taking it. She offered him the other end, knuckles white where she held it. He took a hold, and took it away, putting it down. 

“One more time. You want me to-”

“Apologize to the Spider Prince, _ and _ his consorts for your bad behavior. Properly. _ Especially _the Witch-Consort, since he seems to have been the one you hurt personally.” 

He made a face and mumbled ‘he started it’, but stopped when she spoke again. “And in return I will-”

“Help me find the grave of the Serpent King, or his remains if there’s no grave. You will help me to the best of your abilities, until the fall equinox, or until we find it.”

“_ This _ fall equinox.” 

“Aw, little tree, don’t you trust me?” he fluttered his lashes. He hadn’t even thought to try to trap her; he must be getting soft. 

“A little clarity never hurt anyone. Especially in this situation.” 

“Don’t you have any faith in you?” 

“I’ve never been good with people or animals. But I’m going to _ try _. Deal?” 

“Agreed.” He tipped his head closing the distance between them

“Wait wait wait wait” She had her hands on his chest and was pushing. “Does it have to be a kiss? What’s wrong with a handshake? A hug? A blood oath?”

“Feeling really flattered here, Rowan. Is it that terrible a prospect? It’s how it’s done.” 

Rowan bit her lip, and shook her head. 

“Ok, fine. Let’s not make this any weirder than it has to be.” 

“It’s only weird if you let it be.” he wiggled his eyebrows at her. She snorted. 

“... I suppose you’re not wrong.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, and took her glasses off. “Don’t make it weird, okay?” 

“No promises.” 

It wasn’t a romantic kiss at all, a brush of lips more of a sharing of breath, points of magical contact to bind the deal. It was far warmer, temperature wise than it should have been. Remus stepped back, and raised a single finger.

“You could have mentioned you’d never kissed anyone before.” 

Her face turned bright pink.

“At _ what _point would I have mentioned that?” 

“I don’t know before you sealed a deal with it?” 

“What, and run out to find someone to kiss before I did it?” 

“No, but I would have liked to _ know _.” 

“I’ve given a fae buyers remorse. My life is complete.” she threw her arms in the air. 

“A deals a deal.” His face was serious. Rowan nodded, breathing out, trying to calm down. She held up her left hand, smallest finger extended. 

“Here, like this.” she directed. When he did, she hooked their pinky fingers together. “A human oath.” He swung their hands back and forth, and it made her smile. “Give me a day or so to get my kit together and tell my mother what I’m doing?” 

“I’m not stupid. If you can’t walk to the tree, we wouldn’t get very far today. Get some sleep.” He opened the door to the garden and grinned at her. 

“You can’t get rid of me now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It hasn't been explicitly stated in the story, but Rowan has Chronic Fatigue Syndrome- part of the reason she hurts all winter. She gets worn out easy. 
> 
> There will be more information on first kisses probably next chapter. 
> 
> People were asking me stuff about this au on my tumblr, and I CANNOT TELL YOU how much it thrilled me.
> 
> It also led me to outlining an AU of this AU, wherein Rowan and Remus make friends during the Serpent King's Regency. 
> 
> so yeah, thebestworstidea see you on tumblr


	27. Good Neighbor Check

Despite the fact she’d been trying to rest, Rowan was writing down the basic recipes for teas in the front room, trying to get things organized for her extended jaunt. The rest of her family would be home that evening from the long weekend at the conference. _ That _was bound to be a long discussion. Her mother wasn’t exactly happy when they’d talked on the phone last night, but she’d allowed how it was Rowan’s choice to do this very stupid thing.

Not that she knew what the stupid thing was; or even how formal an oath Rowan had sworn; just that she had promised ‘Leaf’ to help him with something and that would probably keep her busy most of the summer. That was stupid enough. Rowan had just put her head down on the table next to her notebook when there was a knock at the front door. Getting up slowly, she headed towards it. Remus would have come to the greenhouse, probably if he bothered to knock at this point, and no one should be coming for her services on a Sunday afternoon. 

There were two stupidly good looking young men on her porch, and Rowan wished she hadn’t gotten out of bed, though it would be rude to leave them there. A soft shorter boy with curly hair and a tall redhead who were talking quietly as she came to the door. When she opened the door, it was to see Roman Gage lifting his hand to knock again.

“Hello neighbor.” Rowan said, trying to sound calm. 

Neighbor was sort of a misnomer; their houses were certainly in the same neighborhood, for a given value, along the same road. In the edges of town, it certainly counted. And the Wallers were neighbors enough that they’d returned stray goats. Neighbors enough that she’d offered to babysit. Not that that had happened much. 

“Hi Miss Baker!” Patton Waller said brightly. “I hope you don’t mind us coming over unannounced, but uh.” he looked over at his friend again. “Something odd happened the other day and we were hoping to talk to you about it.” 

It was probably too soon to start panicking. That or too late.

“I’ve sort of been expecting you. Or something like it. Is this about the bell, or about my green friend?”

They looked surprised. 

“Your… Green friend?” the Gage boy said like he wasn’t sure.

Rowan sighed, and nodded. She gestured them inside. After the door closed, Rowan spoke again.

“You’d be the 'witch-consort' and ‘Honey and Cream’. Or rather, that’s probably why you’re here.”

The Waller boy mouthed ‘Honey and Cream’ with an expression that was plain he didn’t know how he felt about it. 

“That’s a lot nicer than what he calls me to my face.” 

“You can call me Rowan; it will make this seem a great deal more friendly.” she paused, curiosity eating at her. “What does he call you to your face?”

“‘Warlock-Knight’” 

“Owch. What did you- you know what, I probably don’t need to know more than I do.” she touched her fingers to her forehead and made a drawing motion. “None of my business. I already know more than I want to.”

“How much do you _ know _?” 

Ignoring the question, she asked instead. 

“What would you like me to call you? I could call you Mr. Waller and Mr. Gage, but…” She paused. “... _ Are _we keeping it friendly?” 

“Yes, definitely! it’s more of a neighbor check? To make sure you’re alright?” 

“A ‘good’ neighbor check?” it bubbled out of her before she could stop it, followed with an only slightly hysterical giggle. Rowan covered her mouth with her hand. Calm. She had to stay calm. She was not expecting the Waller boy to laugh. 

“I guess so, huh? You can call me Pat.”

“Why don’t we talk in the kitchen?” She nodded her head to one side, and led them in

“Wow. That is uh… a lot of cast iron.” The Gage boy was taller than her, and if he’d gone further than the table, he’d probably have to duck to avoid some of the pans. 

Rowan snorted. 

“Most people say that. Have a seat.” Gesturing for them to sit at the scarred and stained kitchen table, she sat herself. “So, you… you’re... “ She bit her lips, trying to figure out what she needed to say. “My green friend… led you to me how?” Rowan managed to dredge up a smile. “Pretty sure inter-species friendship isn’t illegal.” 

“Gosh I sure hope not.” 

“So what happened?” Rowan was trying to read the expression on the Gage boy’s face. Her not wanting to know was another thing that was _ almost _ lying. She _ desperately _ wanted to know what happened. But she didn’t _ want _to want to know. Remus had said he’d belonged to the Serpent King. When she’d seen him around town, it was with Pat and the Sanders boy. 

Pat cleared his throat, stopping a staring contest neither of them realized they started. 

“He apologized.”

“Pat, he requested a formal audience, which V _ hated _ , then got on one knee and would not shut up for fifteen minutes. Five of those were spent talking to me and I’m _ still _not sure if half of what he said was insults or not.” 

“Oh he’s already done it?” She perked up and gave a sigh of relief, hand pressed to the base of her throat “I realised after the fact I never specified ‘when’ and that was a big old loophole.” 

“Yesterday afternoon.” Pat nodded. 

“He said ‘his witch’ was making him.”

Rowan folded her fingers together. She could feel herself flushing. 

“Well then. I’m my own witch, thanks.” 

“The fact he apparently calls me ‘witch-consort’ to you raises a question about your relationship with him.” 

“It’s not like that. We’re more… blood-sworn siblings, I guess? I’m asexual and he is very much in love with someone else. I don’t think I need to tell you that when they love, they love hard.” 

The boys looked at each other for a moment, a speaking look. It reminded her of her parents, of all things, and she couldn’t help but smile. 

“Besides which, he’s terrible.” she added fondly. 

The young Mr Gage laughed. 

“That’s an awful thing to say about a friend.”

“I only speak the truth. You’ve met him.”

“Then why are you friends?”

“He makes me remember I don’t want to die.”

There was a moment of awkward silence. She smiled brightly. 

“Can you explain how you ‘made him’? I’ve only seen two people able to really control him, and well… not well.” 

“Be fair, he did leave you alone after V told him to.” 

“If he’s been leaving you alone, how did he end up kissing you?” Rowan blurted out. They stared at her. She exhaled.

“I know what _ he _ did. He tried to kill you” she pointed at the other witch “Three times out of jealousy, but that was a few years ago, and three nights ago, on the full moon, he kissed you. On the lips, presumably, since he mentioned a bitten tongue, for which he was beaten closer to death than I ever want to see anyone again.” she crossed her arms, settling back in her chair. “I apologize. I shouldn’t have asked.” 

“How about a trade? You tell me how you made him apologize, I’ll tell you what happened.” 

She smiled. 

“A deal.” 

There was a pause. Her smile got wider. 

“Let me clarify; _ I made a deal _. And what he did for me was to apologize to you.” 

“You don’t even know me.”

“So?” 

“So why would you do that?” 

Rowan shrugged. She didn’t owe him an answer, and he didn’t ask nicely. 

“It didn’t cost me too much. A summer’s worth of help and a first kiss.” 

“‘A’ first kiss?” Pat seemed confused. 

“Well you see there are a lot of fine lines.” Rowan explained. “Kisses on the cheek, family kisses, first actual kiss on the lips, first time you kiss a girl, first time you kiss a boy, first time you kiss and _ mean _ it. Even the first kiss after marriage is different, magically, than any other kiss. Humans are constantly changing, so-” she waved a hand. “Yeah, _ one _of my first kisses.”

“Which one?”

Rowan blushed. “First time I kissed a boy.” She frowned suddenly, and chewed on her thumb. “... man I guess? Sheesh, now I don’t know. There _ probably _isn’t a distinction between ‘human’ and ‘not human’” 

“What are you helping him with?” Pat should have come on his own, he was easy to talk to.

“Something I probably would have done anyway, as a friend.” She stood up and flicked the switch on the electric kettle, moving to a bank of glass jars filled with herbs. “I haven’t offered you a drink yet, where are my manners? So do either of you take cream? Sugar? Honey?” 

“I prefer coffee.”

“Well, I’m making tea. It’s kind of what I do.” She set jars on the table, labels turned towards her guests, so they could see what she was putting into the pot. Black tea, lemon peel, lemon grass, and rosehips- nothing esoteric. Things that tasted good, first and foremost. She took a deep breath. “The thing is, I can’t tell you.” Rowan said, not feeling as calm as she sounded. “I gave my word I wouldn’t.” She poured hot water into the tea pot, and stared at the steam. She looked up. “You could _ make _ me, of course. But I wonder how you’d feel later.” Rowan set three teacups on the table, each in a saucer that matched but none of them matched each other.

“Do you think I’d do that?” Pat seemed upset, and she raised her hands in a soothing gesture. 

“No. But I would _ think _about it, if our positions were reversed. He is dangerous, and unpredictable, and you barely know me.” Still not sitting down, she gathered sugar, honey and cream and put them on the table between them. She poured the tea and pushed one cup at each of them, finally settling back into her chair. “And secrets can be dangerous.”

They both looked at her like they wondered if she was hinting at something. So did she. Breaking her word, even under threat of magic was terrifying, but part of her wanted them to know. Wanted someone to know what she’d gotten herself into. Rowan managed to keep her face calm. “You can certainly make me break my word, but I don’t think you can break our deal, so…” She added sugar to her tea and stirred. “Speaking of deals, you mentioned telling me what happened? I think I’ve more than fulfilled my part.” 

“Technically I didn’t agree, I just offered.” 

She gave him a very flat look, which he mostly missed because Pat elbowed him. There was a hissed conversation Rowan ignored in favor of pinching the bridge of her nose. 

“Mr. Gage?” She waited until they quieted “You don’t know _ me _either.” she blew on her tea, attempting a sip before setting it down. 

“Roman.” he said after a long moment. 

“Pardon?”

“I… ‘Mr. Gage’ is weird.” he snorted. “If I’m honest, it sounds a little weirder than ‘witch consort’ right now.” 

“I could call you that.” she offered. 

“Please don’t-” he was interrupted by her giggling. She offered her hand across the table. 

“Roman then. Given the _ intent _was there, and neither of us are fae, will you please tell me what happened?” 

He blew air out explosively looking at the tea, and sniffing it, before adding sugar. He looked over at Pat then back at the tea. Finally he looked up at her. 

“I approached him. I wanted to… try and talk it out a bit.” 

“Ah.” Rowan sipped her tea, and smiled weakly. “That’s good of you. I mean, considering the murder attempts.” She tried to keep a straight face, but she snorted. “Sorry. That sentence…” 

“Well I have a history of... less than stellar ideas. But I thought it was working. Then...” he gestured expressively. “It came out of nowhere.”

“I _ think _it was probably just his poor impulse control. He didn’t seem to know why he did it. Just said he thought it would be ‘funny’” 

“That’s… kind of reassuring, actually. Beats the idea he’s harboring some kind of crush on me.”

“No, I don’t think so.” _ this _was something she could share with them. “Not that his feelings don’t seem to be complicated, but it’s mostly anger. Jealousy. Frustration.” she tasted each word as she said it trying to find the best way to describe the emotion. “He never said anything that sounded like any kind of attraction.” 

“Good thing.” Pat mumbled. “I’d fight him.” Roman choked on his tea. Rowan only avoided doing so because she wasn’t drinking at the moment.

“Don’t say that in front of him. He’d want to see what would happen.”

“That would be a mess.”

“It would really undo any good that’s been done, yeah.” Rowan agreed. 

“If you’re being such an influence on him, did _ you _get him to stop wearing green all the time?”

“What’s wrong with green?” Rowan looked a little confused, then her brain fired off and as Pat opened his mouth to answer her she blurted “Wait- is this a ‘eating green M&M’s makes you horny’ sort of thing?” 

“Yeah.”

“Oh Sweet Bedazzled Jesus.” she groaned, dragging her hands down her face. “Green is my favorite color. I wear it all the time. I dunno, though. I mentioned black was a color for mourning, and the next time I saw him, his coat was black, and it’s been that way ever since. I figured he wore green because of what he was.” 

“How did you manage it?”

“I have no idea. It’s not like I normally try to change him. The apology is kind of an outlier.” She paused. “And should not be counted.” 

“Did you just-” 

“Sorry, I must have reached my limit on being serious.” she bit her knuckles. “Give me a moment.” 

“No, it’s okay, keeping it light, friendly like.” Pat assured her. “This is delicious by the way. You didn’t measure anything, but it just-”

“Thank you. It is what I do.”

“Make tea?”

“I’d rather make tea than spill it.” She bit her lips, and went to take another sip. “But that’s none of my business.” 

Roman laughed quietly. 

“We’re not going to give you a hard time for memeing. Honestly it makes me feel better.” 

“Better?”

“Well, you were being really stiff, it’s like you were terrified.”

“Terrified. Right. ... That’s because I am.” she admitted. 

“What.”

“Put yourselves in my shoes for a moment- I knowingly harbored someone who sexually assaulted the boyfriend of Prince of the Forest. I then _ personally _assaulted, albeit with the intent to only drive them off, a half dozen humanoid fae of uncertain type- and now you” 

“You did what?”

“You didn’t know about the bell.” she blinked, and bit her lips again. “I don’t know if I should tell you.” 

“That’s the second time you mentioned the bell though and I’m kinda dying of curiosity now.” 

Rowan tapped her hands together. She looked down, then up again, and took a deep breath.

“Then perish.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> after avoiding having Rowan interact with the main cast, I then dropped two of them on her doorstep. 
> 
> Rowan is very politely not using their names, which she knows, until she gets permission to use them.
> 
> Awkward conversation time, which got so long it had to be split across two chapters. 
> 
> Fun fact! While 'Warlock' is often used as a male counterpart to 'witch' the actual definition is 'oathbreaker'. Yeah. Remus went there.


	28. Peter Pan and Wendy

When they finished laughing, Rowan did relate her encounter with the fae lynch mob, and explain her unusual weapon choice. 

“No, can confirm, if V had wanted him killed he would do it himself.” 

“Bizarrely reassuring.”

“Wait. That sounds familiar…” Roman stared at her, then snapped his fingers, as if thinking of something. “ _ Wendy _ .”

Rowan stared across the table. She covered her face with a hand, pushing her glasses out of the way as she did. 

“Oh god you were Peter Pan. Of course you were.”

“And You were human; I was never one hundred percent sure.” 

Rowan grimaced into her tea cup.

“Yeah, well…” 

“This sounds like a really great story I do not know.” Pat put in. 

“Well…you know I used to hunt fae?” 

“I get insomnia and go on walks at night, often at the edge of the forest.” Rowan cut him off, rather than get an elaborate backstory going. “We met in the woods at night, and you don’t just introduce yourself to someone in that context. But I said something along the lines of ‘Are you lost? Good boys should be home in bed.’” 

“So, I snapped back ‘Whatever, Wendy’” 

“Like any thirteen year old boy with a knife would when confronted with a strange teenager.” 

“You were wearing blue.”

“I was wearing jeans and a matching jacket. Hardly a nightgown.” 

“How could you know that?”

“Because that’s what I wore when I went walking at that age. Always. It was a look.” 

“You threw a rock at a Rawhead.” 

“Any crystal is a banishing crystal if you throw it hard enough.” Rowan said primly. “Besides, I hate those things. All knuckles and fingers and arms.” she shuttered. She’d read about them in one of her mother’s books when she was far too young, and had a fear of stairs without risers ever since. “Besides, you were going after it with a knife smaller than one of it’s fingers.”

“I won.” 

“ _ How _ ?!”

“Well some idiot girl threw a rock at it’s head.” 

Rowan shrugged. 

“It was heading into town, what was I supposed to do, nothing? And technically I threw several rocks.” 

“I just don’t know why you were out in the middle of the night, unarmed.”

“It was midnight tops, and I don’t go out with the intent to pick fights.” She sighed, and shrugged turning her attention back to Pat. “To clarify, that was the second time we met. We ran into each other, like three times? Four? I can’t really remember, I was pretty passively suicidal at the time, and my memory is a bit messed up.” Rowan winced at the shocked expression on his face, and rubbed the back of her neck. “High school was  _ not  _ my friend.. So there are large sections I don’t remember properly.” 

“Yeah, I wouldn’t say more than that.” Roman agreed. He sipped at the tea cup and wrinkled his nose, looking at it. 

“Done are you?” She looked over at Pat. “You too?” Rowan reached across the table and pulled the cups back by the saucer. She swirled the dregs of the cups around and turned them over into the saucers, then turned them over again, staring into the cups.

“I wouldn’t worry.” She said idly. “As a foreteller, I make a decent cup of tea. Huh.” 

“What?”

“Cats.” She tipped the cups towards the other witch. The clumps of tea leaves made nearly identical cat heads against the curve of both the cups. Roman reached across the table, and pulled her cup from under her hand, imitating her actions. For a long moment he frowned at it, turning the teacup one way then the other. He glanced back up at her.

“... be careful.”

“I think I’ve used up my dumb-ass for the year already.” She assured him, taking it back, and wiping a finger along the inside, smearing a thin squiggle- it could have been a scarf or a road. Or a snake.

“You always  _ think  _ that, but then there are untapped reserves.” 

Unable to help herself, she giggled. Rowan clamped a hand over her mouth as the giggles got a bit hysterical. 

“Well that’s a truth if I’ve ever heard it.” 

“I didn’t know you could tell fortunes Ro.” 

“Eh, not so much, it’s just looking for patterns.” 

Rowan shrugged, and picked up a strainer from where it had been behind the teapot. 

“Would you like more tea without the side of prophecy?” 

Pat nodded, and she poured the tea through the strainer to catch the leaves, refilling her own as well. Roman waved it off. 

“Most foretelling is the reading of patterns, symbols, and shapes. The trick is interpreting them, and that’s as much magic as it is symbolism. Cats normally mean needing to think before you speak; or something hidden. But that wasn’t what it felt like. It was more like something coming; so I might hazard being careful what you witch for.”

“What you ‘witch’ for?” Patton asked.

“Sorry, slip of the tongue. Anyway, the strange thing was how much they looked like each other. I find that coincidences like that mean something. Traditionally ascribed meanings are mostly guidelines for people who lack personal intuition.” She clasped her hands again. “Sorry. We get kind of uh… academic about magic around here.” 

“That is… not a word I associate with magic.” 

“Well, you’re  _ really  _ naturally talented. The kind of talent that can get people in trouble. Honestly, if you aren’t aware of some of the bullshit that gets written about witchcraft, I’d count yourself lucky.”

“What, like Charmed? Sabrina the Teenage witch?”

“I wish that was the worst of it; that’s at least fictional, and no one is going to expect that more than poisoned apples.” she paused, “I mean, yeah, I  _ could  _ put a sleeping potion into the skin of an apple, but so could someone with a hypodermic needle. I’m more of a Pratchett kind of girl, anyway. What I mean is books that tell people about witchcraft are often full of some real Bullshit.” She flipped her hands. “Just… bullshit! Oh yes, I’m going to go up to the other witches in my town and say ‘hey we’ve got to dance naked together in the woods at least once a month or we aren’t really witches; why? Some turn of the century pervert decided that’s how witches work, Sorry.’” 

Roman choked. There was so much wrong with that idea, he didn’t know where to start. 

“Look at us.” She gestured to him. “We’re not even the same  _ kind  _ of witch. You’re all full of fire, and I’m in the dirt.”

“What?” 

“I mean I can smell it on you.” 

“Smell what?” 

“The fire. There are different kinds of witches, just like there are different kinds of fae; some of it’s how you’re taught and some of it is how you are. You’re fire; bright, brilliant and … possibly fire resistant?” at his nod she went on. “I’m earth, mostly. Nurturing, healing and will never be fireproof, even if I managed to connect with a familiar. But I can increase my natural endurance by walking barefoot. Well in nature. I doubt it would work in a city, even if I wanted to take my shoes off there.” She made a rude sound “Given how I feel on the second story of malls, almost certainly not. But I can walk twice as far barefoot than I can shod.” 

“I’m really hung up on the smelling thing. That’s a thing humans can do?” He sniffed his shirt suspiciously. 

“I can also identify stones by licking them.” 

“You’re pulling my leg.” 

“I’m sure you can do things I can’t.” 

“Wait, this implies the existence of air and water witches too-” Pat burst out. “Does that mean some can use all of them?”

“No, only the Avatar-  _ yes _ .” Rowan grinned “Some don’t specialize. Most use all of them depending on what they’re doing.” 

“I’m learning so much today.” 

“Then as my mother always says, the day is not wasted.” a fluffy tortoiseshell cat trotted in from the other room, leaning it’s paws against Rowan’s thigh and from her wince, using claws. “Hello to you too, fluffbutt.” she flicked it’s head, and it disappeared under the table “Woke up, did you? Sorry, if she’s up, I’m sure that-” twin dashes of ginger and black followed, the ginger leaping up into her lap. “All them. Great.” 

“Eee! So cute! What are their names?”

“The fluffy one who needs to get down off the counter-” she hissed and the cat looked at her unimpressed before jumping down, “Is Zoloft, the tuxedo is Pye, this idiot-” she hefted the large ginger and white tabby against her chest “Is Ambien. There’s also calico named Peri, and a grey named Mouse. And they all know they don’t get fed until six, so what the hell?” The fluffy one leapt up on the arm of Roman’s chair, sniffing at Pat. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation, do you need to go out?” Shifting Ambien to her shoulder, she went over to the window and raised the screen, clucking at them. Two out of three took the exit, but Zoloft was clearly trying to entice Pat into petting her, and Roman was trying to shoo her away, which she was ignoring. 

“Ah, which one is yours?” Roman asked delicately. 

“Ambien. And Mouse, technically.” 

“Two?”

“Oh you mean  _ familiar _ , no, none of them. We just love cats.”

“Cats are great.” Pat agreed, but Roman picked up the protesting Zoloft and put her out the window as well.

“Pat’s allergic.” He explained. 

“Oh I’m sorry.” She shut the window before the fluffy tortie tried to reenter. “I don’t know what got into them, kitty crazies maybe.” 

Pat rubbed his nose smiling,.

“I don’t mind.” 

“Anyway, I hope that I’ve answered the questions that you had.”

This was a mistake as they both suddenly looked a little bit more serious. 

“We have gotten a lot of answers, but…” 

“Look, you’re right. I think he’s dangerous, and it’s suspicious that he’d suddenly apologise when nothing made him do it before. But I’m more worried that you’re in danger than you being a danger, whatever it is he’s talked you into doing.” Roman decided to be blunt, and see what that yielded. Rowan swayed back but then took a deep breath, meeting his eyes and not giving ground.

“I trust him. He’d never purposely hurt me. Everyone meets different versions of the same person. Give him a chance to change.” 

“That’s a passionate defense.”

“I can’t exactly give you a reasoned one. Your concerns are valid and understandable.” She tugged on the end of her braids nervously. “Look, I get it. You’re a protective person. Believe me, I understand the urge. There are plenty of people who des- need that. I am not one. Unless you know a reason I shouldn't, I will trust him. Before you.”

His eyes flicked over towards Pat then back to her. 

“What did he ask you for?” Roman asked again. Ah. He knew something and didn’t want to say. Or more precisely something he didn’t want his boyfriend to hear. Which meant one thing. 

Rowan’s skin burned. Her chest hurt, and she felt every thing she didn’t ask like a lie. But she kept her face calm. As long as she didn’t say an untruth, she wasn’t lying. She was after all human, so for all it hurt her, she could open her mouth and lie any time she wanted. After nearly twenty years, she’d learned the best way to lie was not to speak. Rowan wasn’t stupid. She knew it was impractical to not lie at all, despite her best intentions. It was a personal rule, anyway. She had outs. Not speaking wasn’t lying; though if asked directly it was harder to get away with it. Deflecting wasn’t lying. Saying something with no intent to deceive wasn’t lying. The only thing that she was absolutely firm on was saying something with the intent to deceive. 

Her friend was hurting, and she was starting to fear helping would only hurt him more. Keeping her word not to tell wasn’t lying, but it was getting harder and harder to talk around it. 

“I can’t tell you.” Unconsciously she stomped her foot to punctuate. “I promised that I wouldn’t. I can’t tell  _ anyone _ . My word on it.” 

“It’s okay.” They both looked over at Pat now. “I think you both may want to calm down. Just a smidge.” he made a pinching motion. 

Rowan rubbed the back of her neck. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“No, you’d already said that. It’s not fair to ask.” 

“Okay.” She said quietly. “One more, give me your hand, please?” 

He considered then offered his hand, which she cradled in both of hers for a moment looking at it. She smiled at it after a moment, her hands very warm. Lifting her right hand she traced the tip of her finger on his palm. 

“You’re a lucky man, all things considered. So much love. A protector before all else. Tir the spear that protects without defense-” she traced lines that overlapped “Ewaiz the staff that moves to intercept, and Kano, the fire that illuminates.” Rowan cupped both hands around his for a long moment again. “That’s just part of who you are.” Letting go she turned her palm up, and traced lines on her hand as well. “I’m Algiz, that which stands between. I am Thorn the pain that heals. I am Ing that grows. I’m a protector too. We just go about it in different ways. Let there be trust between us.”

“Is this a witch thing, or me too?” Pat asked. 

“Sure you too.” She offered her hands, and he put one of his in hers. “First one moment” she traced a much more complex series of lines. “That’s for allergies; you may want to take some antihistamines when you get home anyway, but that should take the edge off.” Rowan smiled down at his hand. “Ooh, Patton Waller, you are  _ amazing _ . You a Wyn the joy, Laguh the water that flows and finds a way and Perth- the unknown, and the unexpected.” She closed his hand around the pattern she’d drawn. “Now then, both of you- get out. I don’t know when my friend is coming back, and I’d like to avoid a mess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> featuring cats that I have actually owned! 
> 
> three different kinds of fortunetelling 
> 
> and people not talking about things
> 
> come find me on tumblr @thebestworstidea


	29. Children and Moms

Somehow, Remus managed to wait just long enough that she was getting concerned before showing up. Rowan had come downstairs, still half asleep, to find him leaning in the doorway to the kitchen, watching her mother cook. 

“Lazybones-” he called. “Mom’s making cinnamon rolls, and you were still in bed.” 

She ducked past him into the kitchen, halfway to the teapot before turning and staring at him. 

“‘Mom’? _ I _don’t even call my mother ‘Mom’, why Mom?”

“I like it. It’s a fun word.” 

“I can’t stop him.” her mother explained. 

“Have you _ tried _?” she rubbed her eyes, and turned the kettle on. “You want tea, stinkbug?” 

“I’m not coming in there~” he sang cheerfully. 

“I’ll bring it to you.”

“Yes please.” 

“Well you didn’t let him come up to my room, and _ cinnamon buns _, so you’re forgiven.” Rowan laid her head on her mother’s shoulder for a moment, and dusted some flour off. Her mother laughed. 

“I think Leaf’s nickname for me is punishment for many further sins, Rowan.” 

“What’s wrong with ‘Mom’?” Remus asked. 

“I just never liked it.” She stuck the pan in the oven and turned to look at him, wiping off her hands. “Do you have a mother?”

“... I suppose I must have at some point.” Remus considered. “I know I didn’t spawn fully grown, because I remember being young, at least. I was an adorable sprout. Hrm. Maybe I’ll ask around sometime.” 

“A pity there’s no baby pictures of you to verify that.” Rowan teased, watching the teapot steam. 

“You’re not going to take me at my word?”

“I have every faith _ you _thought you were adorable.” she smirked. “... next question, do you have any children?”

“Oh probably not for a couple reasons.” 

“But only _ probably _?”

“Stuff happens.” he shrugged, and accepted the mug of tea she handed him. “If I find out I do, I’ll bring them by.”

“That is a terrible idea.” She paused. “Or a good one, I’m not sure… it’s not like Mother is getting grandkids from me.” 

“I no longer have guilt.” Rowan’s mother said, and passed Remus a few pictures. He started laughing.

“No, this is great! I was _ exactly _this adorable, Little tree.” He turned the picture towards her, displaying a picture of herself no older than six, grinning at the camera and covered in dirt. He was already looking at the next one. “Oh look, you can see the family resemblance in this one, she’s got the crazy eye.” he turned it over. “What happened in two years? Two years is like an eyeblink.”

“Grade school.” Rowan said flatly. 

“... sounds torturous. So glad I’m not a human.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rest of her family just calls him Leaf now.
> 
> It's the name of one of my cousins, actually.
> 
> I have no idea if he does either, but we're going to stick with his answer 'probably not'  
Sadly I do know about his mother,
> 
> find me at thebestworstidea on tumblr


	30. The Search

They were full of cinnamon rolls and it was past noon when they entered Rowan’s workroom. Rowan was checking over her bag one last time, wanting to be prepared but not offensive. The iron shavings for instance were staying home. Effective as it might be to stop something, it was the equivalent of a dirty bomb, and nothing she’d do outside her home territory. Given her companion, she had to go light on personal countercharms. 

“How did Mom put a geis on me without my name?” Remus demanded, following her in. 

“It’s a mother thing.” Rowan said without thinking. “Besides, do you really think I’m the only witch in my family?” 

“I suppose not.” 

“Why, what did she say?”

“Nothing important.” 

Rowan looked at him skeptically. 

“Really. Nothing important, and you think you have a geis on you?”

“It was a compelling argument!”

“You were alone with her for two minutes! Less!” 

“I didn’t say I argued back.” He looked at the center table, where sheets of paper had been pieced into a map. “What’s this?”

“Well, it’s my best attempt at a satellite view of Wickhills and the forest. There were so many glitches. The town itself is okay-” she pointed “There’s mainstreet, and the schools.” She moved her finger along roads, which blurred a lot, even as they headed out of town. “Here’s my road, and I managed to zoom in on my house on the computer. See, I wanted to try dowsing to start looking, but… Given the forest, I can’t even start from a map. It’s okay in town, with a drawn map, but once you get outside the human habitat, it goes wonky.” Rowan explained, frowning at the map of the area. From her pocket she produced a pendulum. She looped the chain over her fingers, and watched the pendulum attempt to pull away from the map at a right angle as she moved it over the dappled blurry green of the forest.

“Just wandering around sounds less stupid now doesn’t it?” Remus poked at it, trying to make it swing. 

“No, it still sounds pretty stupid.” She stuck her tongue out at him and he grabbed it. “Uck!” She wiped at her tongue. “Do you ever wash your hands?!”

“When they’re dirty?”

“... define dirty.”

“When stuff’s on them.” 

“You know what, that’s fair.” She flicked her wrist, catching the pendulum and putting it back into her pocket. “We’d better get going, I guess. I did sort of waste half the day by sleeping in.” She threw the strap of her bag over her shoulder crossing her chest. “Do you at least have an idea of where you’ve been before?”

“Yes, but it might not actually help.” He scratched his jaw. “Like I said, I’m afraid it might be hidden, and if it’d been hidden, it would mostly likely be hidden against fae.” He made a face. “I could have walked right past it.” 

“Oof good point. Well, we still aren’t going to find it in my workroom.” She leaned back into the house. “Bye Mother! Love you!”

“Bye Mom!”

“Bring her back in one peice!” 

“And we’re going.” Remus put his hands on Rowan’s shoulders and urged her out the door into the garden.

“Wait, is that what you two were talking about?” Rowan laughed as they entered the forest. Refusing to answer her, Remus just pulled her along until they were far deeper than Rowan had ever gone on her own. Maybe an hour’s gentle but steady walk. All at once she stopped, stretching slowly and letting herself reach out and expand into the space around her. 

“I like this tree. This is a good tree.” Rowan leaned against an enormous beech, feeling the bumps on the bark. Remus stared up at the branches thoughtfully. 

“How long do you think it would take you to grow this big?” He asked. 

“I guess that would depend on what kind of tree I was.” Rowan answered lazily, stroking a hand over the bark. “Rowan trees don’t grow this big. A willow would take decades. Beech trees like this one might take over a hundred years. Oaks too.” 

“What is it you’re doing? You’re doing magic. I can feel it.”

“You can?” She opened her eyes, surprised and drew back into herself. “I was just sensing. Well, about to.” It was going to be weird, she had no idea what it was she was looking for. She gathered up what she felt when Remus talked about Him, and spread her hands out, like casting a net. Eyes closed she took a few stumbling steps over the sprawling roots of the beech tree. Behind her eyelids the world was dim, not dark, with trails of light marking where living things were, and the spaces between them. Remus was like a fire behind her, hot and incredibly present. She continued reaching as far as she could go, stretching looking for something, anything, a trail to follow. There were wispy bits that might have been the passage of magic, but nothing solid. Sighing, she pulled herself in, and tried to make a compass of her magic. A direction, a feeling. Something. Her arm raised palm out and she turned in a slow circle. Rowan huffed, and stopped, opening her eyes. 

“What’s in that direction? There’s a lot of magic.” 

“The hill.” He offered. “An entrance to it, at least.” 

“So not that way.” She turned to a different direction, and pointed. “What I call a ley line heads that way, so let’s try that.” 

“Wandering aimlessly~” he said teasingly. 

“We’re going to candy mountain, Charlie.” She retorted.

“What?” She couldn’t deny that she loved it when he looked confused. To the best of her ability, Rowan recited the flash animation as they walked. 

“Pastel unicorns.”

“Yes.”

“A mountain made of candy.”

“More of a hollow hill, but yes.”

“And something stole the unicorn’s kidney?” 

“Yeah.”

“And the internet has lots of stories like this?”

“You don’t want to go to the internet, it is a silly place.” 

“I  _ have _ met unicorns like that, though.”

“Unicorns talk?”

“No, but that doesn’t stop them from being assholes.” 

They laughed about that for a little while, until it started to get dark, and Rowan had to sit down for a while. She shared out food from her bag. Remus tried to steal all the garlic pepper jerky. 

“So do I get to feed you?” He asked. “Fair’s fair. You feed me all the time. And Mom too.”

“Mother feeds people to show affection.” Rowan frowned at him. It was dark enough under the trees it was hard for her to make out features. She squinted. His eyes caught the light and his teeth had no right being as white as they were. “What, you can cook?”

“I  _ can _ .” he said cagily. “Let me show you affection.” 

“I cannot eat raw squirrel.” 

“Have you  _ tried _ ?” 

“Now you see the fact that you didn’t deny makes me really nervous there.” She tugged the bag of jerky away from him. They probably weren’t going back to her house tonight, so she’d need something to eat in the morning. 

“Maybe if you ate squirrel, you could see in the dark?”

“Maybe if you learned to lie, your ears would fall off.” she retorted. “Physically, I could probably get myself to eat raw squirrel, but I’d probably get sick after. It might kill me.” 

“So not raw.” 

“Just admit you can’t cook.” 

“I never said I could do it  _ well _ .” They were leaning against each other. “Are we going to go any further tonight?” 

“Sorry. I’m a little nervous about walking when I can’t really see anything. When the moon gets higher, it’ll probably be okay.” 

“You know I could do something for that.” 

“What?”

“Give you something to make you see in the dark.” He felt her sharp inhale, but then, he could see her face fine. Which she clearly knew, since she turned away. 

“Fine, you can feed me.” 

He shrugged and put an arm around her. She sighed and shifted her bag, so she could return the gesture, but didn’t face him, staring out into the trees instead. 

“Tell me about Him.” 

“You don’t want to hear-”

“I don’t want to hear about your sex life” she corrected. “But everything else, sure. It feels like I’m looking for something and I don’t even know what it is, really. So tell me who it is we’re looking for.” 

“His skin was cool.” Remus said after a long moment. “Winter, you know? But he’d lay against me like he enjoyed the heat. So smooth to the touch. Like he was made out of silk. His hair had these little flicks of color, just glints, when the light caught it just right.” Everynow and then he’d pause, and Rowan got the feeling that he was self-editing for her sake, and she’d tighten her arm. “He had so much passion. He wanted so intently. It was incredible. Cold and cool and burning all at once. Secretive, self contained, but he  _ wanted _ .” He made a grasping gesture, trying to come up with a better way to say it. “Like a fire, he wanted to consume and make it part of himself so he could shine. He wanted to be seen, to be wanted. And I wanted him. So much, from the minute I saw him. He was just… I mean, part of it was he was sexy as fuck, little tree. You have no idea. I wanted to put my mouth  _ everywhere _ .” 

“I get you.”

“You do?” he sounded surprised. 

“I’ve been in love.” her voice was quiet and sad. “But go on. Honestly, fae have an unfair leg up on being pretty, so-” 

“But he was pretty even for gentry. Like a wind bent tree, like the grain of wood, the delicate veins on a leaf. Like that rainbow snow makes around the moon. His magic tickled and coiled and wouldn’t let go. He let me have so much of his time; he’d run his fingers through my hair, and his nails would skitter over my scalp.” He told her about jokes, both cruel and funny, and about standing at his shoulder when he’d taken power after his brother was gone. He’d trusted Remus at his back, and she could feel the way Remus glowed with pride about  _ that _ . About golden eyes and the curve of a scar beneath one. Of the feeling of worth and being unworthy. She may have dozed off while he talked, because she dreamed about a lean figure in grey and black who looked at her like she was nothing, like he could see the patched and worn mess that was her heart and soul and that he was utterly unimpressed by it. But maybe she wasn’t asleep, because she heard Remus ask her.

“When were you in love?”

“She had the prettiest copper-red hair and her eyes had crowns in them.” Rowan answered. “We wove stories together and she felt like she was part of my soul. Kissing her was like breathing. But we only saw each other two weeks a year; when my family were on vacation outside Wickhills. She couldn’t come here, and I couldn’t leave. I tell myself it would never have worked. We just… drifted apart, after years together, writing, calling, waiting. Sometimes I wake up and I think I can still smell her on my pillow though, on the plushies she sent me. I still love her. I never learned how to stop loving people once I did.” she sniffed awkwardly, trying to pretend she wasn’t crying. “I never wanted to kiss anyone else. Still haven’t. If she called for me, I think I’d go.”

“You do understand.” he said quietly.

“I’m very much afraid I do.” They were quiet then until predawn lightened the forest. She only ached a little, so Rowan guessed she must have slept at some point. Or maybe she was too tired to feel it; it could go either way. It was definitely a shoes off kind of morning though, and she stuffed her stockings into her boots before looping them to hang on her bag by their laces. 

“Well, what we tried yesterday didn’t work, so I’m going to try dowsing.”

“You said that wouldn’t work, though.”

“What I said was I couldn’t dowse from a map outside the forest. Dowsing is still the best way to find a specific thing, and the rules are different in the forest.”

He shrugged, acknowledging the point, gnawing on the day old cinnamon roll she’d given him. 

“We don’t really use maps.” 

“I never would have guessed.” she cleaned her glasses on the edge of her skirt, licking them to get the tear tracks off the inside. 

“If I could do one thing to benefit society as a whole I think I would make it so fae could use sarcasm.” 

“I’m so glad you have dreams.” She laughed.

“See, that’s what I’m talking about. It looks fun!”

“It  _ is  _ fun, but I am genuinely glad you have grandiose dreams that you will never achieve.”

“A good friend would support my dreams.”

“One impossible task at a time, compost heap.” she took out her pendulum and stared at it for a long moment before letting it drop. “I’m scared.” Rowan admitted, watching the pendulum swing. 

“What of?” he sounded interested. 

“... if we find it. Him. You won’t be able to be my friend any more. No matter what happens.” Remus had spoken of dying with longing. Like being without Him was worse than death. If a human managed to make friends with a fae, they weren’t supposed to outlive them. 

“Aw come on. I won't abandon you.” 

That drew a smile from her. 

“I guess I'll believe you."

“Like I’d lie to you.”

“You would if you could.”

“Well, not to you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of trouble with this, because let's face it, LAOFT Durant is not a good person. At all. But Remus loves him anyway. it kinda hurts.
> 
> More projecting onto Rowan yay....


	31. Introspection, Horse Theft and Skinny Dipping

If she’d had any kind of proper grounding in reality, it would have irritated Rowan more that they could spend two days losing themselves in the forest, and then Remus could pick a direction and get them back out in an afternoon. But she knew perfectly well the forest didn’t follow any rules but it’s own, and honestly, getting to sleep in her own bed made it worth it. Besides, being irritated wouldn’t change it. She had enough to be irritated about. Herself, for one thing. Rowan knew that now she’d agreed to help, she wouldn’t stop until they had found something. When the summer was over- the easiest time of year for her to devote time to searching the forest- she would still have a niggling feeling in the back of her mind that there was something she needed to do. She didn’t think that she could or should explain it, but she wondered if this was what being given a quest felt like. Deadline of the fall equinox aside, she was bound to search for the grave of the man her friend loved. She knew herself. Even if some bizarre twist of fate made him give up, she might not. 

  


Remus meanwhile was learning how fragile mortals were when you cared about their health. He supposed he knew that they were weak, but it was different somehow. Rowan, despite being honest about most things was less than forthcoming about her physical limitations until the last moment. It was frustrating. Once he found her walking resolutely into the forest herself without waiting for him to come and get her from the house. Which was efficient, but that meant he missed out on Mom treats. It was frustrating and conflicting. He had a really good feeling about her help, but he only had a limited time. He didn’t like the feeling of limited time. He could sit and watch a flower bloom on it’s own time, but that was  _ different  _ somehow.  _ He _ had time, until he unwove (if he made it that long), or was killed (far more likely). His lack of patience is what had gotten him in trouble before. Despite what some people thought, he wasn’t incapable of learning, he just didn’t always care. But Rowan didn’t have time, and of the time she had, he only had so much. But if she hurt herself… he didn’t want her to be hurt, and if she was, she wouldn’t be able to even give him help for as long as she’d promised. So; if she wasn’t going to make sure, he had to. Ugh. He was responsible enough for a certain value, but this was bullshit. But he kept circling back to not liking the thought of Rowan being hurt. It was hard to be gentle with her, since she pushed back so delightfully, but Witch or not, she was fragile. So maybe… he could play up his distractible and lazy impulses. Move slowly. Maybe he should see about finding some favors and catching a ride. His stock was fairly low right now, however. Given that people might not know about the theoretically accepted apology, it might be closer to non existent. The incident at the revel had been… visible. Yeah, he was going to be skipping revels at least for the rest of the summer. He was hardly the only fae with a small problem with object permanence, so yeah, that’d make things better. At least a little.

  


He’d let Rowan know that he had a plan, so after a good night’s sleep she’d come into the forest to meet him wearing jeans under her tunic-length dress. She’d seemed uncertain, but willing to give it a shot. That went out the window when she saw him and their ride-for-the-day, a reddish brown horse that shimmered with lighter hairs, paler legs and hair. 

“I  _ know  _ that horse! That’s the Clark’s horse!” Rowan yelped. 

“Yep.” 

“Which means it’s not  _ yours _ .”

“Yep.” 

“Well?”

“I’m waiting for you to get to the point.” 

“You can’t steal other people’s livestock!”

“I’ll put her back when I’m done.” He shrugged. 

“I’m betting you didn’t  _ ask  _ to borrow it.”

“Her.” 

“Her then.”

“I asked her!” he patted the horse’s neck. 

“I think we established that you can’t  _ actually  _ talk to animals.”

“We  _ both  _ talk to animals, little tree, let’s be fair.”

Rowan picked up her braid and bit into it, screaming between her teeth. Remus just laughed. 

“Put her back!” 

“I give them a favor or two in return, I really wanted to check further than we can walk.” Remus said, fairly serious for him. “It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve borrowed her.”

“What.”

“The way I see it, if they keep forgetting to put that charm back up on the stable, that’s  _ practically  _ an invitation. I mean, I haven’t in a few years, but she still remembers me.” The horse was trying to eat his hair, which he was ignoring. “I mean, usually just for an overnight, but still.” 

“So you’re the bitch.” She said without heat. “Why am I not surprised? I mean not around here, so much, but stealing horses to ride them all night is a thing that got blamed on witches before.”

“Oh yeah” he tapped his finger against his face thoughtfully. “Well, not around here, like you said.” 

“Yes well the troubles around here are well known.” Rowan rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. And now the horse was trying to eat her hair. She pushed it away. Someone had actually accused her of doing it once, when she was younger, but she thought it was the novelty of blaming something on a witch instead of a fae. “But I’d rather not be seen in possession of a stolen horse.”

“Borrowed.” he insisted. “I certainly couldn’t say ‘loaned’ but I can say borrowed. Mortal horses are fun.”

“Why?”

“Well they’ve got different personalities, and-” he tapped the horse’s leg and she lifted a foot obediently. “This makes some people nervous.” 

Rowan stared at the horseshoe, confused. Remus, however, giggled. The horse put her hoof down, narrowly missing the fae’s boot, and he seemed unbothered. Instead he climbed easily up onto her back and offered Rowan his hand. She groaned, and took it. 

“You would have been better off staying on the ground to get me up there whoa!” he gave a sharp tug, and hauled her up in front of him. Rowan barely folded her leg in time to get the boot over the horse’s neck, and immediately grabbed hold of the mane. She felt rather than heard his laugh, and the horse raised her head from investigating the greenery, heading off into the trees. 

“So what’s the horse’s name?” Rowan asked.

“How would I know that?”

  


Rowan had to admit that trail riding, even bareback was fun, and they’d already gone further than she’d expected. It was harder than she’d anticipated using a pendulum while riding, so she wasn’t sure how useful it was. She’d been grilling Remus on what other fae rode, and it apparently ranged from deer, to unicorns, to other fae who just happened to have horse shapes they wore, and who agreed to be ridden;

“Plus things that are horses, things that were horses, and things that never were horses.” 

“That’s it, fae are officially the only real cryptid.” her leg cramped, and only his arms around her kept her from falling off as she rubbed it. “Can we take a break. Not that your friend here isn’t lovely, but I’ve got horse sweat sticking my jeans to my legs and it’s nasty.”

“Well you’re not a fragrant blossom either.”

“We’re not playing the smell game again, you compost heap.” 

He let go of her and she clamped her legs around the horse grabbing handfuls of mane again. Somehow he managed to end up standing on the horse’s back, and after a moment, dropped back down. 

“There’s a river up ahead. She could use a drink anyway.” 

“So could I.” 

“Well so could I, but you won’t bring me mead.” 

“Some other time.” Rowan said vaguely. Hearing the gleeful chuckle behind her, she just shook her head. 

  


It wasn’t a wide bit of river, though it dropped from a higher bluff down into a wider spot. From where she’d stumbled to, she could see it narrowed not far away, which meant there was probably a fairy bridge somewhere upstream. Remus certainly wasn’t regarding the stream with any kind of frustration. 

“Hey does anybody live here, do you know?” Rowan asked, looking at the wider part of the river. 

“Not as far as I can tell, why?” 

“Awesome.” Rowan kissed the edges of her folded hands, blowing a blessing to the local nature spirits- something that coexisted with the knowledge of fae. She dropped her bag, and followed it it with her outer garments, sitting down and taking off her boots. “It’s hot as balls, and I’m taking a swim.” Her jeans came off with more effort, and she laid them over her bag- she hadn’t been exaggerating at all. The water was moving fast enough that the bottom was more pebbly than leaf covered and that was enough to reduce the chances of snapping turtles for her at the moment. Rowan paused only a second before taking off her underthings as well, before leaping into the water, aiming for as close to the middle of the wider section as she could. The leap had her sinking through the water all the way to the bottom, it being barely waist deep if she stood up. She had no intention to while she could use her buoyancy to float in the middle, turning gently in the current, only needing to kick her foot down occasionally to avoid being washed to rocker, shallower parts of the stream. It had been deep enough to drown her yelp at the sudden temperature difference between her skin and the water. Without her glasses she could only squint up at the blurry patterns of green and gold and the tiniest patches of blue between them. She rubbed cold water on her face rising and falling with her breath, when suddenly she was scooped up ward and fell back into the water with an enormous splash

Choking she came to her feet and glared at her blurry companion.

“Shouldn’t you be stuck on a bank?” she demanded, shoving at Remus’s bare shoulder. 

“I’m not crossing anything.” he laughed at her indignity.

“Oh you just crossed  _ something,  _ buddy.” she countered, and yanked at his ankles with one foot while shoving with both hands. He clearly wasn’t expecting it, because he went down. “HA!” she retorted, but she was expecting the retaliation. The air filled with water as a splash war began. 

  


Later, as she wrung water from her braid, she was struck with a feeling. Turning in place- along the river, not across it. Her hand rose, almost of it’s own accord, teasing at the air. 

“Something.” she mumbled, and let her eyes close, trying to see the pattern. It was darker behind her eyes than it should be. “Trees like bones.” she whispered. “Shedding skins to keep themselves safe.” She shivered, suddenly chilly despite the warm summer air, and started pulling her jeans on even though they were damp, and scooping up mouthfuls of water to try and kill the headache she felt coming on. A warm hand landed on the back of her neck and she sighed relaxing a bit, sinking to her knees. 

“Something wrong?”

“I’ll be fine. Got a chill.” She scrubbed at her mouth and finished getting dressed. “Let me grab a bite and we’ll OW” She shoved him into the water and rubbed her arm. “I swear, if you broke the skin, I’m gonna get rabies.”

Remus laughed anyway, picking himself up out of the steam.

“It’s not funny! You’ve got sharp teeth!” She grumped getting out of the way as he shook water off. 

“It’s a little funny.” He started getting dressed and she turned her back on him while she took out her food. He was trying to steal her cheese before she’d gotten three bites into her sandwich. 

“You’re doing this like Mother didn’t send you a sandwich.” She flopped the waxpaper package at him. 

“But yours tastes better.” he said, face smooshed to the side as she pushed him away while he tried to reach around her for her lunch. 

“I will feed it to the horse!” 

“No, my sandwich.” He kept his arm around her neck however. 

  


“I don’t know why I was expecting to go home tonight.” Rowan was tucked up tightly against the trunk of a pine tree as water dripped down outside the shelter. The horse, surprisingly enough was unbothered by the rain, and was browsing on leaves. 

“It would have broken the pattern.” Remus pointed out. “It’s only going to thunder for a little, don’t worry.” 

“It’s already thundered plenty thanks.” She tucked her arms across her knees. “Did you enchant the horse?”

“Only a little.” 

She leaned against his shoulder. It was like leaning on a heating pad. 

“You’re so nice to me.” she mumbled. “Answering my questions.” After a moment she unfolded, turning her attention to the napkin he’d brought her, full of what was certainly food. Watercress, mushrooms, wood sorrel, forage that didn’t need cooking. She had said he could feed her, which while not her first mistake, was certainly on the list. Rowan recognized most of it, and decided to take her chance on the rest. She wiped the mushrooms gently with the edge of the cloth. 

“Uh, maybe don’t eat those mushrooms after all.” he reached out and plucked a couple from her hands. Rowan stared at him.

“It was funny at the time, but not hallucinating would be better.”

“You think?” She dumped all the mushrooms into his lap and ate the sorrel instead. Remus ate the mushrooms. “If you start to hallucinate, how am I supposed to tell?”

“I won’t and I’d share.” 

“The way you reassure me is terrifying.”

“Who said I was being reassuring?” he grinned. 

“Ah, of course. Why do something you’re bad at.” She tucked her face down into her scarf and cuddled closer to his side. Closing her eyes Rowan went over the day. 

“Hey hey hey” he poked her thigh and she opened one eye irritably. “I’m supposed to be the cryptic one. What does ‘trees like bones’ mean?”

“What?”

“You were mumbling.” There was a crash of thunder, and Rowan winced at the noise. If rain started soaking through the ground they were on, she was going to sit in his lap. She’d been wet enough already today.

“I don’t know. If we’re lucky, we’ll find out.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who care- he did bring the horse back, she was fine, the Clarks are kind of stupid and just thought she got out of the paddock again, and the horse's name is Strawberry Shanks. The color Strawberry Shanks is is called a roan. 
> 
> do not copy Rowan's lack of care about snapping turtles or drinking unfiltered water. 
> 
> About the Bakers: you should totally be picturing the family from Practical Magic, only dysfunctional in a different way.


	32. Nice summer camp we’ve got going on, it would be a pity if things started happening to them...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a fight in this chapter, and I tried to keep it brutal. I mean, appropriately brutal. If you'd rather not watch, you can skip from  
“Wait, where did she go?”  
to  
“Little tree?” he called. “Rowan?”  
There are two less than kind fae discussing a human as if they were a possession before that  
and a the end there's frank discussion of erections, masturbation, and fear.

There was sunlight filtering through the trees, and Rowan was content in that light for now. She wasn’t really ready to move again yet, so she started picking knots from Remus’s hair instead. He didn’t take great care of himself, but he loved the attention and would always sit still if she started. She’d discovered the patch of discolored hair came from a scar just above his hairline. Also, his hair was neither black nor green, but more the color that some black garments became when left in the sun too long. It also had an unfairly wonderful texture once the knots were out, but she figured that was a fae thing. Sometimes, if she dozed off, she’d wake up and their positions were reversed, and her hair was braided in an unfamiliar pattern. It was nice, and she stared sleepily into the distance, amused at herself. Remus still smelled like compost and rot, but she was so used to it, it  _ almost  _ smelled good. It was a healthy rot, which made little sense, and for all the whiff of blood that was sometimes in the smell, it didn’t smell like rotting meat at all. Her eyes drifted closed, and drifted in the warm early evening air. Then she heard hoofbeats, and opened her eyes looking around. Remus was already on his feet, swarming halfway up the tree she’d been leaning against for a better vantage point. 

“We should get going unless we want a party.” he dropped down beside her as she put her bag back on. 

“A fun party?” she had to ask.

“Probably not for you.” he grabbed her hand and pulled. She did her best to keep up, still half listening to the sound of hoof beats. There was only one set. It was still day time. This was fine. They were just avoiding someone. Maybe Remus owed them the equivalent of fifty dollars or something. Her heart leapt into her throat anyway and made breathing harder. Rowan wasn’t a great runner at the best of times, and panic did not help. 

“Hey- “ she rasped out, and Remus kept moving, pulling her along behind him. “I can’t-” his hand squeezed too tightly. “ow!” she yelped involuntarily. He glanced back but didn’t stop. She tripped over something and went down hard on her knees and one hand. For an instant he dragged her along on her knees, then realized and stopped, turning around. 

“Party time, I guess.” 

Regaining her hand, Rowan started to get back to her feet. Her jeans were intact, at least, but it still felt like she’d skinned her knees; she wouldn’t know for sure until she got a chance to check. 

“Stay down.” He shoved at her shoulder, and she crouched down, but looked past him to the approaching mounted figure. She sighed explosively. Fucking good looking fae. Elegant, dark skinned - and worrying her friend. A pity this new fae tickled almost all her aesthetic points, because he was also worrying her. No, he was  _ scaring  _ her, and he hadn’t even spoken yet. She recognised him; he’d been the one who’d started to retreat when she rang the bell. And now she had no home to retreat to, no weapon or ward. The only thing between her and him was... Rowan resisted the urge to reach out and grab hold of Remus. If he wanted her to reduce her presence there had to be a reason. And  _ his  _ caution only made her more scared. 

“Eyrie.” Remus said as the other approached.

“Remus.” He nodded in return. “You’re looking well.”

“Better than I did last time I saw you.”

“Oh you saw me, did you?” the other fae’s voice tickled as he laughed. “I thought you might have been to busy hiding behind her skirts.”

“Now, I know you’re being mean, but her skirts are great places to hide.” 

“Given how you enjoy a fight, one might wonder why you keep attaching yourself to people.”

“What makes you think that reduces the amount of fighting I do?” he chuckled “I seem to remember a great deal of fighting, before.” 

Rowan glanced up nervously, through her arms and bangs. Her eyes caught on the horse Eyrie rode, and her stomach turned. It was a magnificent animal, gray like a storm cloud, dappled dark to light. But the horse had human eyes, and was staring back at her. Her heart ached so strongly her arms twitched blocking the eye contact. She curled up further. 

“Still I wouldn’t expect you to bring a pet along like this on your pointless search. She seems fragile.” 

The immediate response was a laugh. It was fully amused, but it was not nice. 

“Ooh flashy-boi, you have  _ got  _ to learn to not underestimate humans. And  _ this  _ one already taught you a lesson.”

“She doesn’t seem like much at the moment.”

“She’s not the one you’re talking to.” 

Compared to Eyrie’s laugh, Remus’s suddenly seemed a lot nicer. 

“Should I be? Would that be better little witch?” His voice was rich and sweet like fudge. Rowan  _ hated  _ fudge and held that tightly, nails biting into her palms. “Would you like to come and play with me for a while?” 

Rowan unfolded a single finger, not raising her head. Remus caught it out of the corner of his eye and snorted. 

“Looks like a no.” 

“Aren’t you even going to be civil?” 

“Look, you’ve known me for a long time, this is as civil as I get without a better reason than  _ you _ . Let’s just fuck off in our own directions.” He wiggled his fingers in a little dismissal. 

“What’s so interesting that you’re so desperate to get rid of me. What kind of games are you playing out here?” 

“Aw, you’re jealous.” Remus crooned. “That’s sweet and a little weird. You could have said something. I mean, I  _ am  _ pretty cute.” 

“Are you trying to disgust me into leaving?” another laugh and the shift of hooves.

“Or you can suck my dick and  _ then  _ go away, that works for me too.” 

Rowan made a sound halfway between a cough and a laugh. 

“Thing is, you don’t have a good track record with playing with humans Eyrie, and she’s a lot more fun and useful in one peice.” Remus continued. 

the hooves shifted, and Rowan kept her eyes low as the mounted fae started circling them both. Remus strolled casually along, staying between them. 

“I just don’t see the draw.”

“Really you can’t think of a single way a witch could be useful?” Remus offered playfully.

“I can think of several, and  _ very  _ in fashion, but that one is a little curvy for your usual taste.” Eyrie smiled down at him. “Come now, let me have her for a bit.”

“Nope, mine.” his smile got fractionaly wider. Rowan wanted to say something, but decided now really was not the time. She hated feeling helpless. Wait. There was something she could try, if Remus kept distracting him. 

“Oh, but can you keep her? Do you think you could stop me if I wanted to try?”

“Will you fight me for her?” He grinned, bouncing on his toes. “If it’s a fight you want, come on then.” 

“Violence and sexual innuendos; that’s you all over. Next you’ll be offering favors for me to leave you alone.”

“Ech, nah, just violence. It’s what we really have in common.” 

“You’re really going to start a fight over this?”

“The way I see it,” Remus chuckled cheerfully. “You’re the one starting the fight; I’m just saying it’s likely if things keep going like this. Besides, you forgot the other thing I’m good at- loyalty.” 

“Really? I can’t say I saw much of  _ that _ , recently.  _ Where  _ were you again?” 

Remus’s pupils constricted to pin pricks and his smile became much more of a baring of teeth.  


“Wait, where did she go?” 

Remus took the moment of distraction and hooked Eyrie’s foot from his stirrup, yanking him down to collide with the ground. The horse reared and startled away. It didn’t step on it’s former rider, but Remus did, driving his heel down into the other fae’s gut. He recoiled but grabbed the boot before Remus could withdraw it, throwing Remus sharply to the side. He ricocheted off a young tree, and rolled to his feet, weapon out. From the looks of things Eyrie had not expected his rapid recovery. His mace connected sharply with Eyrie’s ribs, throwing him, but the other fae came up, pain aside and a spear in hand. Briefly they circled each other, but there was nothing to gain from it and a swing of the spear tore a slash in Remus’s side. That was the trouble- his weapon had a much greater reach. A cautious or intelligent fighter would have trouble getting in. Remus was neither really. What he was brutal and fast, ducking under a whirl and pressing forward, knocking the blade aside, and mostly dodging the return. he took hits, bleeding slices and shallow stabs from the spear head, and bruises from the butt. He was intent on closing the gap. Eyrie had to defend throwing the shaft between them as the mace came down. Three fast strikes in a row broke it startling a noise that was more of an offended bellow than a yelp out of him. Remus  _ laughed _ , a wild cackle the back swing of the last blow hitting Eyrie under the chin producing a spray of blood. The dark skinned fae responded with an elbow to Remus’s throat, choking the laugh off.

"What's so funny, you wild bastard?"

"I don't fear death!" It was rough and harsh, even for Remus, and he head butted the other fae, hand tangling in his shirt, the chain of a necklace snapping. Shoving away, the back hand sent Remus stumbling back, doing further damage as he was torn away. Eyrie adjusted from using a single weapon to two smoothly, starting by bringing them both together against Remus’s head, opening a gash in his cheek, whirling the halves of his broken spear to try and get Remus to back off. He rolled his shoulder into it, leaves flying into the air, and drove his elbow into the center of the other man’s chest. Given how hard to hit, Eyrie was lucky it was an elbow, not his mace, but it knocked him down, and Remus went with him, weapon dropping to the ground in preference to pinning him bodily to the leaf litter. The fingers of one hand closed around his throat, and his teeth shone in something related to a smile in the dimming light. 

“Didn’t see it? Let’s your reduce your perception further, flashy boi.” he snarled, leaning heavily on the hand on Eyrie’s throat. His fingers dug into the socket, scooping, pressing beneath the eyelid, and he could feel the eye itself loosen giving him more room to get his fingers in to pop it out. He was not expecting to get hit with a rock. He lost his grip on Eyrie’s throat, and was tossed off. A kick to the temple sent him sprawling into the undergrowth. He twitched his hips aside barely in time to have the broken end of the spear impale his coat to the ground instead of him. Rather than pressing the advantage, Eyrie took the opportunity to leave. As Remus heard the hoofbeats retreat, he laughed, and snapped the shaft out of his coat rather than trying to pry it loose. He got to his feet, still laughing, and quickly assessed himself. He was fine. No permanent or difficult to heal damage. Going for the eye was probably a little excessive, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was more sorry he hadn’t sooner. 

“Little tree?” he called. “Rowan?” He looked around. “He’s gone, you can come out from wherever you’re hiding?” he was fairly impressed frankly, he wouldn’t have said that there was enough cover to hide. 

“I’m here.” Between one blink and the next she was back, appearing as soon as she’d spoken to him. She was next to a nearby tree that in no way could have concealed her. Rowan was shedding her bag, scarf and belt, dropping them between her feet, and was grabbing at the hem of her dress.

“Uh, Little tree? I mean, I appreciate that I’m your hero right now, but what’s with the strip tease?”

“I turned my bra inside out and it is VERY uncomfortable, so fuck I don’t care, stare at my tits if you want, just hold my shirt for a second, I  _ cannot  _ do that trick in reverse.” the dress came off, and she shoved it at him. He did indeed stare at her as she yanked the bra off over her head, fixing the badly fastened hooks and eyes, and settling it back in place wincing as she fastened it again. “Enjoy the show?” she asked dryly, grabbing her dress back and making sure it was right side out before pulling it back on. 

“They’re very nice tits.” he said dryly. “Not really into them, but nice. I especially liked the folding knife stuck to them. Booby trap. ” 

“Thanks.” She said dryly. “It’s steel.” 

“That was a clever use of a counter charm though.” he said admiringly. “Doing an inner layer.”

“Well, if I’d tried to turn my dress inside out, the motions would have been bigger and he might have spotted me.” Without picking up her outer layers, she immediately grabbed his chin, wiping the blood from his face. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, that was just a … scuffle. Playtime. A party, like I said.” 

“It did not look friendly.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t have many friends.” 

“I can’t imagine why.” She licked her thumb and swiped over a cut. 

“Careful, not all of this blood is mine.”

“Well  _ good _ , I’d be disappointed in you if it was.” Rowan dipped down and fished a cloth out of her bag, taking his hand and starting to wipe it clean. “I’m guessing this is the biggest concentration of his blood?”

“Yes?”

“ _ Good _ .” her smile was sharp, and she kept cleaning, taking care to get under the nails. The light had turned gray during the fight, thick clouds gathering. He offered up his weapon for similar treatment, curious what she intended to do. As she carefully folded the first handkerchief away the clouds opened up in a sudden downpour. Remus turned his face up into it. 

"Yeah, real mature."

“Did he?” she pointed at the sky, confused.

Remus snorted. “If he had that much control over the weather, I’d be a smoking cinder. We were just throwin’ up a lot of heated energy.”

Rowan made a sound of understanding. “Same as I would if I wanted rain.” her bangs were already sodden and straggling into her eyes. She yanked her bag up off the ground, and reached out an empty hand letting it sweep back and forth until it stopped. “That way.” 

‘That way’ provided a tree that had anchored poorly around a large rock and tipped over, creating a shallow cave beneath the spread of roots and matted litter and moss. It was nearby and provided them enough cover to get out of the downpour if they were close together. And since Rowan was taking the pause to make sure his wounds were properly tended, they weren’t far apart anyway. Since the rain had washed the blood away, Remus was doing his best to pretend he wasn’t hurt, and she wasn’t having it. 

"What were you up to while we were playing?" he asked conversationally. 

"Honestly I was trying to get close enough to the horse to take the bridle off." 

"Whew- no offense, glad you didn't manage that. That would have really pissed him off. Gentry can be real entitled bitches sometimes." He blinked at her, as she blinked at him, stopping midway in fishing an arm out of his coat to clean a shallow stab.

“Aren’t you-?” she asked.

“What?” he started laughing again and grabbed at his ribs, which hurt a little. “No, you had me pegged at the party, I’m not gentry. Technialy wild fae.” 

“How was I supposed to know?” She grumbled, peeling his shirt up. “You’re human shaped and colored for the most part.” From her bag, she produced a pot of ointment, and opened it up, letting loose the smell of cloves and bee’s wax. Rowan hitched closer, dipping her fingers in and gently spreading it over the cuts and bruises that littered his skin. Since most of them were on his chest and face, she was almost straddling his leg. Something pressed against her leg and she looked down.

“Oh come on.”

“Sorry, honeytree can’t help it.”

“Yeah, well it’s not like I’m flattered or anything.” Rowan grunted, and smeared ointment on his cuts. “That is just run off from the fight.”

“Yep.” He giggled, and Rowan just sighed, checking over his head for bumps, and wondering if she’d even be able to tell if he had a concussion. He took it like a hug, resting his head on her shoulder.

“Look after I’ve gotten you greasy, you want to go handle that?”

“Pfft. handle.” 

“Oh gods, it’s twitching.”

“Yeah, it does that.” 

“Gross.” She snorted, and took her hand away from his chest, shuffling backward on her knees and wincing. 

“Well, since you don’t want my sausage, I’ll see about finding you something to eat.” He got up and headed out into the rain.

“Wash your hands first!” she called, and hitched her jeans down to check on her knees. She loved the fact skinny jeans tucked into boots without effort, but they did not pull up to check for skinned knees well. They were bruising but not abraded, and she smeared the last of the ointment from her fingers on the forming bruises, put her clothes back in order, and sunk her teeth into her scarf to have hysterics as quietly as possible, curled into a ball, with water dripping from the moss over her head into her hair. 

Despite the sudden way the storm had come up, it lingered for the rest of the afternoon. Rowan had mostly gotten a hold of herself by the time he’d come back, looking much more grouchy than someone who’d just gotten off had any right to be. He’d brought a few things, and she shared her trail mix which had honey roasted almonds instead of peanuts. They didn’t talk as the gray of the storm briefly turned reddish with sunset, then faded into the deeper gray of the night. Fog crept out of the trees as the rain tapered to a drizzle then left only the drip drip from leaf to leaf. They didn’t move, damp and sitting close together. 

“You knew his name.” she said quietly, when she couldn’t take it any more,when words and hysteria were clawing at her ribs and she wanted to be home to pretend she was safe. 

“It’s not his  _ name _ . It’s a name he’s called. So part of his name, I guess.”

“Like Remus?”

“Less than that. It’s a fragment of a piece, not a piece.” 

“So who was he, Eyrie?” She deliberately spoke his name; any other time she might worry about summoning trouble, but at that moment she was much more focused on not letting herself be afraid. 

“A hunter. The flash of lightning, the roll of thunder. The sound of breaking branches in a storm.”

“What a nice guy. By hunter you mean…”

“There were lots of hunts while He ruled. It was a gay old time.” 

“Clearly.” she elbowed him slightly, and he laughed. 

“Yeah, that too.” He smiled fondly staring off into the distance then shook his head. 

“You were a hunter.”

“Kind of?” Remus wiggled his hand, wondering how deeply into politics he could dip before she got confused. “I mean, yes. I rode the hunt for years. Whenever I could. I liked it. It was exhilarating.” He looked over at her. “But you knew that.” 

“Yeah, I guess I did.” she was quiet for a long time. “... it scares me.” 

“Hrm?” he tilted his head towards her, and his eyes gleamed in the dark. 

“You never asked about it. But it scares me, I mean, more than a rational amount. Sometimes…” Rowan swallowed. “When I was young, sometimes I could hear horns in the distance. Especially in the winter. I’m pretty sure sometimes it was just my brain playing tricks on me. But whenever I did, I’d have nightmares. Where I was running from something I couldn’t see. Or worse that I could. A man with a face like a deer’s skull, looming up behind me. The one that showed up the most wasn’t really… fae, per say. There’s legends about the Wild Hunt filled with ghosts. With wild, hostile gods.” 

“I’m just taking notes, little tree. You have an excellent imagination.” 

“Oh fuck you platonicly.” she shoved him hard, and he responded by pulling her against him in a hug. 

“Also I clearly went about things in the wrong way. All those jump scares and teasing and I just had to take you camping and you’d tell me all your fears voluntarily.” 

“You’re a dick.”

“Well, they say you are what you eat.”

“You’re an asshole too.”

“I didn’t realize we were sharing this much.”

“Oh gods stop please.” She was laughing, but put both of her hands over his mouth. He slid his arms around her and squished her against him. She squished back, and tried to relax again. 

Rowan didn’t ask more questions about the hunt.

She knew he’d answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sort of summary if none of that is to your taste:
> 
> _Rowan and Remus meet a fae in the woods, who for reasons of his own decides he wants to take Rowan to play with. Remus fights him. afterwards Rowan tends his wounds and notes that he got horny from the fight. They talk about the Hunt. _
> 
> Remus was trying to goad Eyrie into taking the first blow, which would have put him at an advantage. Sadly, his temper is a lot shorter than Eyrie's. 
> 
> Remus did not have a good time with his hand. Had trouble settling his thoughts, as it were.
> 
> There is a greater than Zero chance that Remus has eaten human flesh at some point, which is less than ideal in a friendship. Let's call it peer pressure, curiosity and lack of impulse control. This is not something that can be worked into casual conversation. 
> 
> Please come and yell at me on tumblr, I am lonely and crave validation. Also, questions let me put things out there that I can't fit into the story.  
https://thebestworstidea.tumblr.com/


	33. Mystic's Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a long summer full of small events.

“Okay, so worst domestic animals ever, go” Rowan asked, watching him pick the best trees to cross the small river with. 

“Pigs are okay, chickens are fine, goats are great, I miss being consistently small enough to ride goats- cows are boring, does boring count as worst?” He leaned forward and grabbed a branch, swinging from one to the other “Geese are terrible, but hilarious, kind of like goats. Goats and geese can’t breed, right? That would be awesome.”

“No, they can’t, thank gods.” 

“Do you think they’d have pellets like goats, or slippery shit, like geese?” he asked, peering down at her.

“That branch looks like it goes right across the river from here, if it’ll take your weight.” she offered pointing. “What if they were pellety on the outside, then slippery muck on the inside?”

“Like paintballs!” he scampered from branch to branch and then down the tree on the other side. She waded over to him, enjoying the tug of the water on her legs. 

“Anyhow, the answer is sheep. They’re both more stupid and more ornery than goats, and take more tending.” 

“But they’re  _ fluffy _ . And greasy too, which is cool.”

“Rabbits are fluffy, and are  _ also  _ evil.” She bounced her head. “Well, I’ve always felt they wanted me to swell up and die painfully, so I guess my opinions on sheep can be just as biased.” 

“How do you know so much?”

“My mother is chronically incapable of focusing. While I was growing up, we kept trying things out, we kept rabbits for food, chickens, goats, sheep. Never a lot, just hobbies. I have to admit we weren’t really good at animal husbandry.” 

“You still have bees.”

“A constant wonder to me. I keep expecting them to die, but we’ve got like three hives now. I’m a weed. Unexpected and tough and ungovernable. Most of my favorite plants are weeds.”

“Yeah, that’s why I like you.” 

“Same to you.” 

* * *

The weirdest thing about their quest was that sometimes things were nice, calm- sort of. 

Little was actually calm with Remus around. 

But she let herself hold on to his back and shoulders and let him carry her up one of the giant trees she loved so much. Up past the stretching trunk and broad branches, leaves smacking against her face like silken fans. Up further than the roof of her house. To where branches got thin and swaying, to see the sky turn colors as the sun set. Golds and reds painting across pale blue- streaks of pink and purple on the wisps of clouds, as the sky turned indigo dark. Moving her eyes from the sky, she saw a dense carpet of forest crowns spread out around them like a velvet cloak. All heights and shades of green, spiky patches of conifers, rippling waves of deciduous, ocasional dead branches, but from the angle they were at, no really big clearings. She also had no idea where the town of Wickhills was from where they were. The best she had was in the far distance there might have been a lighter point that could have been light pollution- or just the last rays of the sun on clouds. For all intents and purposes, she was the only human around for miles. It was one thing to know that the woods didn’t obey proper landscape rules, but it was another to see it. A voice inside urged her to let go of her grip and fall- fly it insisted- downwards until she was on the ground again. She pressed the sole of her foot against the nearest branch and felt its pulse. She freed one hand- just one, the other tightening it’s hold and extended it, flicking her arm so the chain wound around her wrist unwound and the pendulum dropped. Thinking of snakes, and of death, she watched it tremble. Pendulums loved her, it was a deep talent, and it  _ wanted  _ to help it really did. It just couldn’t really.

“Anything?” Remus asked. 

“Not really? The view is nice though.” 

“It is.” he sighed. The stars began showing, popping out of the darkening sky. Sighing heavily, she rested her face against his hair, and let her mind drift to dreams. 

It wasn’t that she  _ minded  _ the dreams she had when she slept close to Remus. It might not have been related, but then,it might have been, because she never dreamed about the man with gold eyes whose face she couldn’t quite make out when she wasn’t smooshed against her friend. It wasn’t as if she’d never been pulled into someone else’s dream before. Usually someone needed help. To break a pattern. A visit to help them fight off a nightmare.

But these were different. They were dreams- not memories which she’d worried about- because of the feelings. There was no reason for  _ her  _ to feel warmth for cold eyes and hands. Or a feeling of protectiveness. It made no sense. Rowan did her best to forget those dreams once she woke up. Which meant they plagued her. 

“Little tree?” She jerked her head up with a sudden snorting sound. 

“I wasn’t asleep!”

“You sure?”

“No.” She blinked a few times. It was darker, but she still wouldn’t have trusted herself to guess where civilization was. 

“Should I sing you back to sleep?” he teased, swaying a bit in place. “Rock a bye Rowan in the tree top~”

“Oh gods no stop. Why.”

“It moved.” he pointed at her extended arm which ached- how long had she been holding the pendulum out? “While you were snoring.” That got her attention but her arm slowly dropped. 

“Which way?” 

He pointed. 

“Can you hold that thought while we get down?”

“Aw, you don’t want to learn how to move through the tree tops?” 

“... honestly I would  _ love  _ to be able to do that. I physically can’t though, and would prefer not to be tree fertilizer just yet.” she sighed sadly, as they started to descend. “Honestly, just holding on is pushing it. I may become an odd shaped hole in the forest floor yet.” 

Rowan had watched Remus climb trees before, she should have expected the reckless slide down the trunk. She was right- falling felt like flying, even if the stop made her arms give out, and she tumbled to a bruising stop on the roots and leaf litter at the base of the tree, barely not landing on her bag. 

“Boy you weren’t kidding.” Remus said from where he was clinging to the trunk. 

“Said I wasn’t that strong, didn’t I?” she groaned. Rowan had to roll onto her stomach to get up. She was going to be feeling that for days. 

“Yeah, you say that about a lot of things, so…” he waved a hand. “I figured you were just being what’s the word? Stupid.”

“I really hope that’s not the word.”

“Not brain-stupid, ego-stupid. Hypercritical. Self deprecating.”

“Words like that and you say stupid.” Rowan stretched and winced, rubbing at her shoulder and upper arm. 

“Well it’s stupid.” 

“Just accept that you’re better than me as is your naturally given tendency as a fae, and move on. Which way was it?” 

“Well I am pretty awesome.” he grabbed her hand and led her off. Rowan did her best to mask how much pain she was in. They had a lead to chase. 

Later he demanded her ointment pot and smeared it over her back, complaining that it had barely been ten feet and she bruised like an apple; but she hadn’t told him she'd been hurt or asked him to do it. It was kind of nice that he was paying attention.

* * *

“So why don’t you have a familiar? I don’t think I buy this idea you’re just not strong enough for it.” It wasn’t unusual for either of them to start a conversation like that. There were long periods where neither of them spoke, since they tended to avoid the subject of precisely what they were looking for while in the forest proper. So when one of them had a thought, they would share it without preamble. 

Rowan sighed. 

“It isn’t  _ just  _ that.” she admitted. “Part of it, yes, but…” she pinched her nose. “It’s kind of about control? At this point in my life, if I wanted a familiar, I’d have to open myself up. Break open my shields and let a tie just… dangle out there until something felt the call and completed the circuit. And until it did, I would be open and raw edged, and aching for something to do that.” Rowan clenched a hand over her heart. “Sure, I’d be stronger afterwards, but … no. I just. I can’t. Mostly familiars are attracted when witches are younger, and more open, but I closed off early because of… reasons.” she finished vaguely. “So. There. Honesty hour. It’s not that I’m not strong enough, it’s that I’m not strong enough.”

* * *

“So, question-” Rowan started out of nowhere.

“Answer!” 

“You can’t lie, you can’t tell stories without clarifying that’s what you’re doing. Where do illusions fall into that? Showing the expectation of one’s heart’s desire, or something that is wanted, but not delivered. Isn’t presenting things in such a way to make one thing seem like another ify? Isn’t that intent to deceive? How isn’t that a lie?” 

He turned to look at her slowly. “Do I look like the guy who makes these rules?” 

“... you might.”

“That’s fair. I don’t know. And now, much like the pixie, which I still haven’t done, I am going to be  _ wondering  _ about it.”

“You should probably just forget about it.” 

“Oh trust me I’m gonna try. I don’t have to think about it, I just do it. Or don’t do it, rather.” he added grumbling under his breath. “I mean seriously, do I look like a guy who thinks, full stop.”

“No.” 

“See! No more philosophical discussions of morality! It’s not fun!” 

“I didn’t know we could ban subjects.”

“Well  _ you  _ can’t.” 

“Bitch, watch me.”

He turned and stared at her. He tipped his head to the side. Rowan turned pink. 

“I’m waaaaiting.” he sing-songed. 

“Shut up.”

“What, just in general? No can do, and you don’t really want that.”

“I don’t; but shut up.” 

* * *

It was one of those summer nights that got inexplicably cold. Perhaps it was just the difference between the day or the night, or the clear sky sucking the heat up, but by the time they stopped they could see their breath. So while she got some rest she was pretty much on top of Remus and his higher body temperature. 

“Hey. Rowan.” he whispered in her ear, fingers poking at her shoulder blades, too firm to tickle. 

She grumbled and pressed her forehead against his neck. 

“Shut up. Sleeping now. Heat packs don’t talk.”

“Heh. Heat pecs.” he kept poking along her spine. 

“What is it?”

“Why didn’t you fight harder to keep your love?”

“T’fuck?” she pried an eye open, then shut it. The poking continued, up and down, until she answered. “Because she deserved  _ better  _ than me. More than I could give her. Happiness. Everything. What could I give her? I don’t know. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I should have tried harder, tried to leave again. I lived with her for a quarter of a year once; everything just kept going wrong and I had to come home. It was wonderful to be with her, but horrible to deal with. She could do better than what I gave her. Happy?” 

“... no.” he held her more tightly. 

“S’rry.” She was drifting off again, even though her eyes were stinging and wet. “Can’t give anything to you either. You deserve to be happy too.” her fingers loosened a little bit and patted where they lay against him. 

“Don’t you?” but she was asleep. 

* * *

She dreamed about running. That wasn’t too unusual. She was running after something instead of from something, and that was. It felt good. Running did, and in a dream her lungs didn’t burn. Her legs didn’t ache. Nothing but the chase, and a whooping feel of exhilaration. And in the end she rested, head on someone’s knee as sharp nails and cold fingers threaded through her hair. Content. So content and happy in that moment that she woke herself up out of confusion. Rowan startled up out of her sleep to find Remus was still asleep. She studied his face. It was close enough she didn’t need her glasses, thankfully. Beneath his eyelids, his eyes were moving- he was still dreaming. He didn’t look like one would expect a fairy to look, Rowan decided. His features had none of the elegance people would expect, and this close, she could see the faint stubbly possibility that he could grow a beard as well. There were tiny scars here and there on his skin, though mostly his hands. His skin had a faint green undertone, similar to his hair, which showed up more starkly in his scars, as though his blood would be green instead of the red she knew it was. His nails were like that too, thick and sharp at the edges. He didn’t look ethereal, for all he didn’t look human, pointy ears and teeth too sharp. Remus wasn’t  _ pretty _ . Not that Rowan had a wide range of experience with what fae looked like- she’d seen a tall, dark figure who given the company he was in she assumed he was the Spider. He, even at a distance, had been otherworldly. If she’d had to pick a word, Rowan would probably use handsome for Remus, rough and ready, manic and often grubby. Definitely better looking than most human men she’d met, if she was any judge, but then her taste was hardly normal. He had the same manic energy her father had- though with a significantly different kind of knight errantcy. Reaching out she moved some of his hair from his face, combing her fingers through the curly strands and Remus turned his head into the touch, the corner of his lip curling up in sleep. Rowan yanked her hand away, and wrapped her shawl around herself, turning her back to his sleeping form. She should stop eating things he brought her. She didn’t need the stomachache. She curled up further. Or that could just be all the lying to herself. 

* * *

“There is a possum on my chest.”

“Good morning!”

“There is a possum on my chest, Remus.” Rowan repeated.

“Her name is Eloise!”

“Why is there a possum on my chest?” 

“They eat ticks.”

“I didn’t have ticks on me did I?” there was a hysteric edge to the question.

“Eh… maybe? You  _ are  _ sleeping in a pile of leaves.” The possum yawned, it’s teeth and creepy little hands far too close to Rowan’s face for her taste. “But probably because you’re warm and I moved.” 

“Please get the giant rodent off me.”

“She’s a marsupial.” He did gently dislodge it, and Eloise trundled away disgruntled. Rowan sat up and wiped the front of her dress off, slowly. 

“... why do you even know what a marsupial is?” she demanded. 

“It’s a fun word. Also armadillos. Those things are hilarious. When they get scared they jump!” 

“Are armadillos funny or is the word funny?” she asked, getting her glasses on. 

“Yes! Anyway the answer is libraries are easy to break into.” 

“You’re telling me that you break into libraries to read books about weird animals?”

“Well not  _ here _ . But lots of places, yeah.” 

* * *

“What if I built you a greenhouse?”

“Pardon?”

“You need a real greenhouse. I love greenhouses.” 

“I have so many questions. Also I  _ have  _ a greenhouse. Backing up, you build things?” 

“You have a room that is mostly windows.” he scoffed. “Yeah. Building things. Not everything gets just magiced up. I built my house. I mean, that was a  _ while  _ ago, when I was a kid, but its’ held up okay. I’d show you but I don’t think you’d want to come visit. I mean it’s not what’s the word ‘prime real estate’? But it is in the hill.” 

“I’ll loan you a camera.” she told him. 

He looked kind of excited about that. “That sounds like fun! Could I take all the pictures I wanted? Would I be able to get copies?! I can build but I can’t draw or paint.”

“Sure, but I’ll have to show you how it works before I let you take it away with you.” 

“Neat!” 

Rowan wondered when that would happen but that was hardly important. 

“I might have to dig up an old film camera.” she said thoughtfully. “Or would digital work?” 

“Simple check…” he slid is arm around her and into one of the pouches on her belt.

“What are you- Remus NO! Give me my phone back!” 

Laughing he scrambled away. “This button turns it on, right?”

“You’re gonna drain the battery-” 

“Don’t be silly, you haven’t had it on at all. Batteries last longer than that!”

“How do you know?” she demanded, grabbing at the back of his coat and missing as he scrabbled up a tree, the phone case held between his teeth. Rowan would have been more concerned about that except she’d done the same thing. He did almost drop it as it vibrated while booting. He caught it before it fell, and hung upside down by his knees.

“Little tree, please it’s not like it’s the first time I’ve played with a phone.”

“What… where would you get a phone?” 

“Everybody has them! It’s easy!” He dragged his fingers across it. “You don’t even lock yours!” 

She glared at him and held her hand out. “Give it back!”

“In a minute. No service.” he stretched his arms out in a couple of different directions. 

“You  _ can’t  _ be surprised by that. I mean where even are we?” 

“In the woods! Smile!” He took a photo of her, then a selfie. “There’s a handsome bastard!” he giggled. “Gonna send it to Mom!” 

“With what service?” Rowan gave up and sighed, hands propped on her hips. 

“With the one bar I just found!” 

“Those- those don’t even  _ mean  _ anything!” 

“Means I just sent Mom a selfie!” The phone slipped out of one hand and he caught it with the other as Rowan started to yelp. He swung up onto the branch, upright this time. “Don’t worry, I sent her the one of you too!” 

Rowan looked down at herself, and picked a bit of debris out of one braid before tossing it over her shoulder. 

“Think fast!” 

Rowan spread her skirt in her hands and caught the phone as it plummeted. It bounced back into the air and she snatched at it, bouncing it off on hand before catching it with the other. Remus applauded. She flipped him off and turned the phone off, stowing it back in her pouch belt. 

“I don’t even know why you brought it.” He dangled from the tree again.

“Habit? But okay, I get your point I think. You know how electronics work. I’ll get you a camera.”

“So how attached are you to that shed behind your house?” He dropped out of the tree. She shoved him hard, knocking him over. 

“Nothing about that sentence makes me comfortable.”

“Aw, and here I was trying to be polite!” Springing up, he slung an arm around her neck, and she sighed. “I wanted to know where to build it- I’d do it in the clearing but you got weeds there. Still might be the best place...”

“Why would you want to build me something anyway?” Rowan sighed. 

“Maybe I want to do something for you?”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“What if I want to do something for you because I like you?”

“Sounds fake, but okay.” Rowan snorted and wiggled loose, only to trip over a half rotten log as it gave out under her weight. She rolled onto her back in the moss that had disguised it and sighed. 

“I’ll just ask Mom. She’ll let me build you a greenhouse.”

“I don’t know why you think that, but sure.” 

* * *

Waking up from a nap, Rowan discovered they were very close to a rabbit nest, and thus an explosion of tiny rabbits, which Remus was staring at with mild interest, possibly just because they were moving. 

“Objectively.” Rowan mumbled, moving slowly so as not to scare them, the mother rabbit not being in sight. “This is the cutest stage of rabbit development. But I always get the urge to just pop them in my mouth whole and chew.”

“Not worth it.” Remus replied reaching out a finger to touch a questing bunny nose. 

“Yeah, but the meat to feed ratio is great in a few months.” She yawned and started to put her head back down, then opened her eyes again. “... what.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been doing a lot of drawing for a challange so my writing has been glacially slow this month. THEN, Someone, REMUS, took what was supposed to be a paragraph long encounter and turned it into it's own chapter.   
But here's a chapter-   
oh and a Playlist!   
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0fODWEoXsZK3yBTWQ3S21U


	34. In The Woods Somewhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> violence, animal death, butchery

Twilight was strange in the deep forest. The light was more orange and pink than gold, but still tinted green from the leaves. Something felt… off in the woods ahead of them, and Rowan headed towards it. Remus had been momentarily distracted, and she’d gotten ahead of him. Then seemingly out of nowhere he grabbed her and put a hand over her mouth, pulling them both flush to a tree trunk. Rowan struggled without thinking for a half moment before she realized there had to be a reason. 

“I went to _ Saskatoon _ , and there were snipes right here. Gah. I suppose there _ was _an exile along with that.” He breathed softly in her ear, still holding her still. Listening she could hear the movement of something on the other side of the tree. Remus exhaled slowly, with a hint of a giggle. “Oooh. It’s nesting.” 

When he leaned for a look, Rowan managed to catch a glimpse. It looked- well, like someone had crossed a pterodactyl with a llama pinata and added antlers. It’s feet ended in tapered hooves, though the ones on the walking end of the arm-wings bent slightly as it walked, gripping faintly. She estimated the size as somewhere between a deer and a moose. Crypdid and fairyland aside, she had no idea how snipes stayed hidden and now had more questions as to _ how _Remus had killed four than she had concerns he had. Also, as the thin beak opened to display almost shark like teeth on the inside, Rowan was now only worried about getting as far away as possible. It did seem distracted, focused on what might have been a nest. Some of the nesting materials looked suspiciously like pieces of tent and other camping supplies, but she didn’t see any bones. Not that that meant much with teeth like that. 

“I wanna get an egg.”

“Remus NO.” she hissed, and the snipe’s head turned as her voice squeaked on the second word. He cocked her head at her, raising an eyebrow and grinning, the bastard. Her hand was covering her own mouth now. She could feel him laughing, but he was barely making a sound. Remus brought her arms up around his neck, and began scaling the tree. Rowan tightened her arms and hitched her legs up to help hold on. Glancing down she saw the snipe stick its’ head around the tree. It wasn’t that big, the head was maybe the size of her torso, but it was big enough. Remus’s scramble brought them up to a broad branch, and he tugged at her arm, squishing her back against the main trunk of the tree by leaning backwards. Tentatively she let go, legs locking around the branch she was now seated on. He grinned, and saluted her with his mace before flinging himself backwards off the branch. 

“No!” she yelped, and lunged without thinking, ending up with her arms wrapped around the branch, just barely able to see anything as the dark streak that was her friend collided with the brightly colored creature below. It let out an echoing undulation of a cry. A handful of feathers flew up into the air, and she heard Remus laughing. There was a crash and then the tree shook. Still clutching at the branch, she leaned to the side, trying to peer down and see what was going on. 

Remus dodged one way then the other as the snipe’s foreleg wings crashed down, attempting to crush him. A crows echoing squawk, then his own laugh parroted back at him, sounding like it was bouncing back along a canyon. No, that was still unsettling. The snipe reared back and brought it’s wings together in a clapping motion, trying to catch him and creating a loud noise similar to thunder. Dirt and debris flew up into his eyes, but it was not a quiet creature, so he could avoid it from sound alone until his eyes cleared. Well almost; something clipped him, not connecting fully but it still hurt. Reaching out he grabbed a fist full of feathers and yanked, bringing his weapon around to crash into flesh and bone. There was a sharp snapping noise, and the beak crashed closed on the back of his coat as he ducked just enough, though it tore out a hunk of hair. The coat was even less fortunate, but his back was barely scraped, and he slid downwards, under the creature’s belly, rolling slightly to avoid stomping sharp hooves and bunny kicking it right in what would have been the keel bone if it was a bird. Actually it might have one. He’d have to check on this one. He missed his dodge as a hoof came down on his shoulder. It tore a yelp out of him, and the snipe mocked him in its’ echoing voice. He yanked a tail feather in retaliation, hard enough to send it reeling. His mace smashed into a hind leg where it bent with enough force to shatter a sapling. It rebounded against the bone but the spikes tore flesh. It whipped around and the beak snapped forward like a fishing heron. Remus leapt up as it struck and vaulted onto the snipe’s back, locking his legs around the neck. It was long enough that the head was still a danger, and hard to track. He did his best, a blow snapping one of the antlers, as the snipe leapt about, trying to scrape him off, breaking branches and even injuring itself on the snapped off limbs. The beak snapped shut on the shaft of his mace and they wrestled for it. Remus had very little interest in getting disarmed in this situation. An idea crossed his mind and he let go with his legs, to swing his weight up getting them closer to the snipes head, and forcing the shaft of the mace further into the beak, forcing the beak open that done he let go and shoved his hand into the creature’s maw, grasping the tongue and yanking it sharply towards himself, dragging his arm against the teeth, but managing to haul the slippery organ from the animal’s mouth, fingernails digging in. It flexed it’s tongue and clacked it’s beak against the shaft of his mace. He let the weapon slide loose as his hand slipped free from it.The snipe bit it’s own tongue and bellowed. Ignoring the sharp teeth lined maw far too close to his had, Remus laughed. That was fucking hilarious, and the mace twirled in his hand, letting him bring it up in a full swing against the side of the monster’s head. The beak cracked, and the tongue tore loose from his grip, leaving saliva and blood coating his hand. He started to drop to the ground and managed to land a second blow to the damaged area. Blood spattered out from it’s mouth and nose, as it drew back it’s head to strike again. The head snapped forward, but it was easier to dodge this time, and Remus brought his mace down once more. Bone crunched and blood spurted and the snipe collapsed in slow motion. His breath slowed, and he stared the body down, daring it to move. It didn’t, because it was dead. 

Five.

Well, that didn’t matter any more anyway.

The small clearing was littered with broken branches, loose leaves and feathers. The haphazard thicket of a nest, feathered with discarded camping supplies was untouched for the most part. Remus tipped his head up looking into the branches that overlooked the clearing.

“All done little tree!” 

Arms still wrapped around the branch, she leaned just far enough to look down at him. 

“Are you in one piece?”

There was a pause, and he checked himself over. One of his palms had a gash on it, and there was another on the back of his hands from the teeth. Everything else was under tears in his clothes. Still, he was in pretty good shape. 

“Yep! Seem to be. All the relevant pieces are there. I mean, if you’re comfortable, I can continue the show and give a more thorough check.” He tugged at the collar of his coat, and the motion flexed the scrapes across his back. 

“Keep your clothes on, I am not comfortable. I would like not to be in this tree for much longer.” 

Remus contemplated the body, then looked back up at her. 

“Jump down!”

“No! I’d die!” 

“You would not. It’s only like twenty five feet! I’ll catch you.”

“You’re covered in blood, and also still no.” 

Remus looked down at himself and shrugged. 

“It’s only gonna get worse, little tree.” He spread his arms invitingly. 

“Ugh. Fine, catch my bag first.” She unlooped it and dropped it, watching it plummet with trepidation. Remus caught it neatly and put it on the ground, repeating the beckoning gesture. It took a lot of willpower for her to actually do it. As she fell she wondered what she’d break. The answer was nothing, since Remus _ did _ catch her. He grunted as he took the weight on his injured shoulder, but he promptly tossed her back up in the air again playfully, and _ this time _ she screamed, as he caught her by the waist.

“You fuckin’ show off!” 

The fae put her down on the edge of the nest and yes, those were definitely blood stains on the nylon fabric, that was ripped windbreakers and old tents, charming. 

“There you go, best seat in the house, no one in their right mind goes near a snipe nest.” 

“You don’t say.” Rowan said dryly, looking at the singular egg she was sharing her perch with. She started giggling then stopped. “Uhm, I’m not an expert on large things being dead, but it’s twitching?” She pointed at the body.

“Yeah it can…” Remus turned and tipped his head. “No, that’s not right. Shouldn’t be twitching there. Oh so! Fun fact.” He moved over and twisted the head to the side, tilting it up. “Snipes have crops; they’re mostly used to store stuff, not to grind things up like birds, you got me?” 

“There’s something moving in it’s crop?”

“Bingo! Depending on what’s in there, they can stay in various states of alive for like a week!” Blood spilled out as he cut it open with a confident stroke. Whatever they were expecting, it was not a live pixie to leap out of the cut and fling itself bodily into the air.

  
“Holy shit!”

“Holy fuck!” Agreed Remus. The pixie buzzed the clearing up above their heads then dove straight at Remus.

“Dude, What the fuck?”

“Jerry, you’ve got to be-.” He snatched the pixie out of the air into one fist and thrust the bloody hand at Rowan. “Check it out, little tree, there was a pixie in it’s crop and it’s one I know!” 

“Lemmie go you daft bugger!” Jerry screeched. “Whazzup bitch?” 

“I beg your pardon?”

“Ain’t gonna get it!” 

“What were you doing in there?” Remus asked. 

“Might’ve been trying to steal an egg.” Jerry admitted. 

“Well too bad, I killed it, it’s mine.” Remus released the small figure and he rattled his wings before taking off again. 

“Eh, fair enough, you rescued me. She hadn’t thrown me up yet.” 

“What else is in there?” Remus thrust his hands into the slit, and worked it open further. Rowan made a small face. The squelching noises were getting to her, and dressing animals was her least favorite thing about raising meat. “They like to eat shiny and magic things.” Remus threw over his shoulder.

“Ah, and we can’t even ask how your little friend tasted.” 

“Hey, don’t call me that.” Jerry hovered, peering at her.

“What little?” 

“No his friend, I ain’t that crazy.”

“I am.” She tipped her head and bared her teeth at him. Jerry doubled over laughing.

“Oh I like this one; this the witch you been fucking about with?”

“Hey now-” Rowan objected. “Why does everyone think we’re fucking?”

Jerry’s face was small but his expression of skepticism was large. 

“Seems to be a fun thing to do, I’d try it if I was built for it.” 

Rowan gave a stuttering adrenaline-leaking laugh, blushing in spite of herself. 

“‘Sides that the boy could use some rebound action.” 

“Ugh.” Remus had blood up to his elbows. “Shut the fuck up.” he threw a stone of some sort that he’d found in the crop at the pixie, who dodged. Blood spattered across Rowan as it flew past and she gave up. 

“Honestly, it would probably be easier if we were.” Rowan leaned back, watching Remus carefully peel the skin away with the feathers intact, opening it up. 

“We can go there, if you want?” He glanced over his shoulder. “Might be fun. Like dancing.” 

“Ew, no. You look like an abattoir.” 

“Some people are into that.” He shrugged and went back to what he was doing. 

“So what are you guys doing then?” Jerry asked. 

“We’re gonna eat this!” Remus indicated the snipe.

“We’re going to _ what _?”

“It’s _ delicious _, little tree. Kind of like mild venison. Liver’s mine tho.”

“Go ahead- oh you meant raw, okay then.” Rather than watch that, Rowan pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at the blood on her. Jerry decided to land on her chest and grab a corner to wipe himself off. After a moment she pulled out her water bottle and poured a bit into a cupped palm, offering it. He looked at her sideways.

“Kindness doesn’t cost anything.” she said idly. 

“Yer weird.” 

“You’re hardly the first person to tell me that, though usually they aren’t sitting on my boobs.”

He snorted and scrubbed at himself, preening the feathers that decorated his clothes with his fingers. 

“‘Usually’” 

“Well, like I said, weird.”

“So how’d a nice witch like you get messed up with the Duke?” 

“People actually call him a duke?” She asked incredulously. “He said I could call him that, but I thought he was seeing what he could get me to believe.”

“Nope!” he laughed. “Told you, I’m grace incarnite!”

“Witch, he’s _ crazy _strong, definitely the strongest Summer that followed the snake, wild or not. Power means a lot.” Jerry finished preening himself clean and slurped a bit of water. Rowan flicked the remainder at Remus’s back.

“Hey, remember that I can’t eat raw meat, okay?” 

Lazily he wiggled bloody fingers over his shoulder, which she took as an acknowledgement. Wiping her hands clean, she pulled a bag out of her satchel and sorted through a handful of trail mix before offering something to Jerry who still hadn’t left, though he had moved to her leg.

“Wazzit?” he demanded suspiciously. 

“I thought you might be hungry. I don’t know what else was in the crop or how long you were there.” 

He glared at her suspiciously. 

“It’s an almond M&M? Candy? The compost heap over there likes candy so I assumed you might. Freely given.” she added. 

He took it and turned it over in his hands. Jerry was less than a foot tall, spiky hair and all. It was adorable, even though he’d established he was a jerk. Then he bit he top off. 

“This is good. It’s kinda like an egg.” he broke off a bit of the candy shell and peered at it before stuffing it into his mouth. 

“You like eggs?”

“Best things in the world.” Jerry agreed, and kept eating. Rowan fished out another and put it on her thigh next to him. When he scooped it up, she noticed something.

“You’ve got a… carapace?” 

His wings flicked out, and his shoulders hunched defensively, as they slid back. 

“What, think sprites are all pastels and butterflies?” 

“Nuisances, mostly, but you’re the first one I’ve gotten a good look at. Certainly the first one I’ve met.” 

“Ye never answered my question.” he countered. 

“He grew on me.” She shrugged. “Like… moss. No idea why he likes me, honestly.”

“You’re funny!” 

“Just like a fairy to be fixated on looks.” Rowan stuck her tongue out at him. Remus snorted. 

“You were serious, you _ are _crazy.” Jerry said flatly. 

“I would say that’s the driving force behind why I’m here right now.” Rowan agreed, swinging her feet. "We changed blood so he's kind of like my brother, I guess."

"Crazy." Jerry repeated. 

Rowan sighed. It wasn’t like he was wrong. 

While Remus played with the dead snipe- which did include skinning it and dressing it out, as well as starting a small fire to cook some- Rowan began sorting through the nest, which was a mishmash of ruined camping gear and natural materials. It seemed that snipes were very into attacking hikers and campers. Rowan made a small stack of wallets. It was only like three, and that was too many. She found a torn backpack, and mended it up, moving the egg- which was heavier than it looked- into the bag. Despite Remus’s ability to produce more than his coat should logically conceal, she was fairly sure the egg would not be able to disappear into his pocket. 

“Hey.” she called “When’s this thing gonna hatch?”

“Hatch? Oh never.” Remus responded. “This lady isn’t even out of mating plumage. Might have even been waiting to lay a second egg. Wouldn’t have started incubating, and I have no idea how I’d go about doing that. Besides what would I do with a baby snipe?”

“Then what did you want the egg for?” she demanded, exasperated. He just laughed.

“I don’t know what he wanted, but _ I _ was gonna eat it.” Jerry offered. 

“It’s bigger than you are!” Rowan protested. 

“Yeah, but _ legendary _.” Jerry retorted. Rowan hopped down from the nest, toting the bag witch the egg and hesitantly moving closer to the body, which now resembled a dressed out carcass (if it stunk it was at least easy to deal with) and the mass of feathered skin. Curiously she picked up a corner, finding the weird hoof-claw at the crux of the wing, spreading it to get a better look, she jerked back, looking at cuts that had opened on her fingers. Remus looked up at her yelp.

“Whoof, should have warned you about that. There are some sharp edges on this-” 

“I fucking thought so.” with the hand she hadn’t just cut she yanked at the back of his collar and he winced. “You DID get hurt.”

“Not very hurt!” 

“If I have to wrestle you out of your clothes every time you get hurt-”

“You would lose!”

“... you got me there.” She slid her fingers under his collar and dug into the bruise with her nails.

“FUCKING HELL SHIT!” he flailed and she fell back, breath knocked out by a careless swatt to the solar plexus. She coughed, retching a little, and he looked a little contrite. 

“M’okay.” Rowan coughed again. “Now quit being a little bitch. I’m just… it’s habit now. Let me …” she gestured at her bag. He glared for a moment, then shrugged his coat off. The dark color had disguised the damage to his shoulder and back, and now that he wasn’t coated in blood from his butchery she could see the damage on his hands. She got out her ointment, and used water to wipe the snipe’s blood away. 

“So…” he said quietly “Brother, huh?” 

“If I had to compare it to something.” She retorted. “Do you have siblings?”

“Apparently at least one.” he looked over his shoulder at her. “Does this mean I get to keep Mom?”

“If you want a mother with a cast-iron collection that outweighs you…” she teased. “You’d have to ask her. Do fae have transient property of family?” 

“What does it mean?” He asked quietly. “Because your brother was an asshole.”

“Is, I guess.” Rowan said, rubbing the back of her hand against her nose, scratching an itch. “You can be like my other brother if you want a model, or my sister.”

“Big and squeamish or tiny and dangerous.” He said thoughtfully. Her younger brother was inches taller than both of them, and terrified of Remus. 

“Middle ground; big and dangerous.” Rowan hissed between her teeth, finding the patch of hair that had been yanked out by its roots. Not much to be done for that, but it looked painful. 

“You know I’ll heal on my own, right? I’m barely hurt.” He didn’t move. “This is raining on dewdrops.” 

“Maybe tending to you makes me feel better.” She countered. “I’m protective of what’s mine, okay? You can understand that, I’m sure.” There was a pause and the fire crackled, and Jerry started sniggering. “... don’t take that the wrong way.”

“You liiiike me.” 

“Shut up.”

“You liiike meeee.”

“I regret everything I have ever done with you.” She hissed, but finished applying the ointment gently. He was right in that nothing looked deep enough for actual bandages. “Especially mixing blood. I’m going to catch some fucking fairy veneral disease.” 

“That is _ not _how you catch venereal diseases.” he laughed, pulling his coat back on, heedless of the blood still on it. 

“I can think of like half a dozen you can catch that way.” she grumbled. 

“Boring!” Grabbing her in a headlock, he wrestled her around until she was in his lap. “Besides you’re too weak to claim anything.” 

“I will give you SUCH a pinch.” Rowan grumbled and rested her head on his uninjured shoulder. She was too tired to argue, anyway, and her stomach hurt. “You like me too.”

“I will neither confirm nor deny.” 

Rowan laughed, wincing. 

“Siblings are more of ‘I licked it so it’s mine’ sort of claim anyway.” 

Remus started laughing. 

“Gonna feed you till you wake up, little tree. You are absolutely _ stupid _exhausted.” 

“What?” 

“I licked first. Means you’re mine.”

“Ugh, no, family is kind of a two-way mineness.” Rowan choked. “‘Mine-ness’ great, I’ve lost my mind.” Peering over she saw Jerry was still watching them. “Little help?”

He just laughed, flitting over to sit on the bag with the egg in it. 

“Right, what was I thinking? I guess I am pretty done. I have adrenaline poisoning for some strange reason.” 

Remus booped her nose. 

“So fragile.”

“Fuck off.” 

“How do humans even survive?” another boop. 

“We’re stubborn?” She reached up to boop his nose in retaliation, snatching it back from snatching teeth. “Also social creatures, so we make friends. We take care of eachother. Family is the best and the worst of it at the same time.”

“Sounds about right.” Jerry said. “I’ve got family. They’re idiots. They could drown in a rainstorm because they were watching the clouds.” 

“Why are you still here?”

“He owes me and he wants me to say it’s not a thing so he doesn’t.” Remus explained. 

“It’s not like you did it on _ purpose _!” Jerry complained.

“I wouldn’ta done it at all if she hadn’t noticed.” he retorted. 

“Fine. I owe _ her _then.” Jerry took flight and flipped Remus double birds. Then he snatched up a few loose feathers and disappeared into the night. 

“Does that even work?” Rowan asked. 

“Eh.” Remus shrugged, and hooked a piece of roasted meat from the fire. “He’s trying to cheat, but he meant it.” 

“I don’t want a favor from a surly pixie.” she whined, sliding out of his lap so she could use her knife comfortably. 

“I think he’s counting on that.” 

“... well now I want it.” 

Remus cackled so hard he almost dropped it on her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was called 'Twas Brylig for the longest time.  
Jerry is supposed to be weird, by the way  
Over on Tumblr, Remus gives a lecture on snipes https://thebestworstidea.tumblr.com/post/613253447828013056/so-for-tonights-update-of-the-witch-and-the-green


	35. Dancing's Not A Crime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rowan meets more fae, and has a pretty good time in spite of herself.

“So what do you have in your bag?”

Rowan dug through it, first the outer pockets then the main compartment. “More bread and cheese. Some stuffed grape leaves. I thought I had a bag of trail mix, but I’m not finding it.”

“You did. I ate it while you were asleep last night.”

“Damn it, not again.” she didn’t sound angry. 

“Not even any of those slim jim things?”

“Those are not good for you.”

“It’s a nice burn.” he grinned. 

“I mean in general but they  _ do  _ have a lot of salt.” Rowan shook her head, laughing. 

“We’re eating meat tonight.” He stood up and started gathering wood. Rowan started to help and he waved her off. “I’ve got it; we’re pretty deep in the forest. Better to not take chances. Don't want some other fae trying to lay claim to you because you grabbed the wrong piece of wood.” 

"Not in the mood for a fight?" She teased, easing herself back down on the fallen log. He dumped an armful of wood next to her and she fussily began arranging it neatly. 

“Huh, is that what that feels like?” He said teasingly. “I don’t like it.” 

“You’re just spoiled from eating so much meat last week.” 

“My natural diet!”

“Really?”

“Eh. I like the way it tastes.” 

“Well good, because I don’t know where I’d stick a PH meter on you to make sure you’re healthy.” 

“Kinky.” He clicked his tongue and wiggled his eyebrows, scuffing the ground clear, before crouching to lay the fire. Rowan watched with interest, but she’d never caught just how he lit fires. “Don’t gather more wood, and don’t go anywhere, I’ll be back soon.” he ruffled her hair and she flipped him off, settling in to get comfortable as he disappeared into the underbrush without a trace. 

Rowan kicked her bare feet up and stared at the fire for a while. She dug in her bag and came up with a leather bottle, which she opened carefully, then immediately put her mouth on the lip of to catch the fizz. She had basically promised Remus mead, and the summer brew had to be drunk anyway before it went bad. Rowan just felt lucky he’d only raided the pocket he knew she kept trail mix in. Growing bored and lonely as the forest got darker and darker around the small fire, she started to sing. She started with modern songs, like Florence and the Machine, The Gay Pirate song, then some more traditional-ish faire songs, though after singing Maid of Bedlam she had to pause to wipe her face. It always made her cry. Drinking a few swigs from her bottle, she switched to ballads with stories like King Willie’s Lady. Part way through ‘The Captive’ she realized that someone was watching. Listening, from just outside the firelight. 

“Do you want to join in?” she asked without thinking; like she wasn’t in the middle of a giant fae habitat. It wasn’t fae infested the same way that the ocean wasn’t shark infested. Whoever it was moved closer so there were visible shadows beyond the ring of firelight, and glints of reflected light from their eyes. Four figures of varying builds. Four distinctly nonhuman individuals staring at her. 

“What happened next?” 

Not the response that she’d expected, honestly. 

“The rest of the song?” the voice prompted. “Still making up my mind about you, so finish the song.” 

Rowan cleared her throat and took a swig of mead. Where was she? Ah yes, the magician had just offered a greater show. She was almost at the climax. Time to sing more, she guessed. Remus was absolutely correct in saying she wasn’t  _ good  _ at singing. But she sang with emotion. She was good at  _ performing _ . She was watching the shadows now however. There were three or perhaps four silhouettes with gleaming eyes, mostly clustered, which was what made it hard to count. The song ended, and there was a pause, a dip- and before they could speak, Rowan launched into another tune. And again. The silhouettes got closer and firelight gleamed on skin, and she could make out the toss of hair. A tapping foot and a bit of a smile? Finally, after a rather breathless rendition of Emile Autumn's Shallott she stuttered to a stop, unable to think of another set of lyrics. Or draw a good breath, she’d been singing for a while. Instead of the wineskin, she grabbed her waterbottle instead. Rowan coughed, shaking her head, then smiled weakly. 

“Now what is a human girl doing lighting a fire where she has no business being?” 

“I didn’t gather the wood or light the fire.” Rowan said as calmly as she could. 

“You’re just watching it for a friend?” a different voice, a bit lower.

“Hilariously, yes.” she laughed, uncomfortably, but managed not to fiddle with her bag. She was still out of breath. Moonlight trickled through the trees, and she turned her head, not looking away, so much as looking at the very bright moonlight. If she wasn’t concerned about her company, the warm night would be beautiful. Rowan stayed still, almost like she thought they wouldn’t be able to see her if she didn’t move. Green hair shone in the firelight as they moved just barely in the ring of light. A slender limb, speckled in freckles. A dark curved shoulder with a vine looped over it. She gave up and tracked their movements, hearing whispers exchanged between them that just barely were out of her hearing range. 

“You don’t belong here.” that voice was somewhat lower. 

“Believe me, I know that.” Rowan smiled nervously, projecting ‘harmless’ and ‘not worth harming’ for all she was worth. It was kind of like watching trees dance as the moon rose and illuminated things better, and Rowan always enjoyed that.

“Are you lost?” a third voice, softer somehow. 

“Do I know where I am? No. Am I lost? Not as long as I have my friend.” that was skating perilously close to lying, in Rowan’s opinion. Neither of them knew where they were. 

“Only one friend? That’s a pity.” 

“Where are they?” 

“He’ll be back soon.” Rowan said that with confidence. “But I was serious, would you like some mead? It’s what I’ve got to share tonight.” she offered the leather wine skin. “I mean, if you don’t mind coming closer.” Offering a drink at a campfire wasn’t unusual. Naked women with hair like leaves, that was a little different, silvered from the moonlight and gilded by the firelight. She couldn’t help but smile though, because that’s what she did when faced with beauty. Her mind went over her rules. 

Be honest.

Be kind.

Be polite.

Be  _ careful _ . 

That covered most things, though Rowan thought that last one was probably a lost cause at this point. Nothing about this summer had been particularly careful. 

“What’s mead?” 

“Oh!” she laughed at herself. “It’s a fermented honey beverage. This one has hibiscus flowers in it. My green friend likes it, so I thought you might. Besides; it’s only polite to offer something when you meet someone. Or come visiting unexpectedly.” 

One of them laughed. 

A stocky figure with spiky green hair and amber colored eyes slunk forward, something like a cat- complete with a tail the same texture as her hair. Rowan continued the comparison, arm held out and bottle hanging from it, like coaxing a feral cat for petting, letting her move in her own time. The bottle was taken and she lowered her arm, as three others came into view while the first one inspected it, sniffing at it. A tentative sip. 

“This is pretty good.” she allowed. 

“So-” said the one with the longest hair. “What should we call our unexpected guest?”

“Pardon?” Rowan asked. 

“What’s your  _ name _ ?” 

“Little tree!” Remus’s voice came, and Rowan jumped a foot, jolting herself, and turning half around to the direction it came from. 

“Guess what I got~” he said cheerfully holding up two dead animals dangling from their hind feet. They looked something like rabbits with too many limbs. “And  _ you  _ got company, good evening, ladies.” 

“Good evening!”

“So you’re her friend.” 

“That’s me.” he agreed. Remus slid to a seat next to Rowan. She grimaced a little bit, seeing blood under his nails and in his mustache, but since the rabbits had been dressed out, if not skinned, he’d probably been eating organ meat out of her eyeshot. She fought the urge to huddle into his side. The dryads probably didn’t mean her any harm. Probably.

Rowan picked up a dangling limb. Rabbits with wings. Okay then. 

“I hope there’s enough for everybody.” she joked. He snorted, and started skinning them casually. 

“Not going to the revel?” he asked, attention more on the dryads than what he was doing. 

“You aren’t either.” it was an amused observation. They were passing the mead back and forth. He stared at the skin like he knew what was in it. 

“Yeah well, did you hear what happened last time I did?” 

The dryads laughed, but not unkindly. 

“We just prefer our own company some days.” 

“We can make our own fun.” 

The speckled dryad poked suddenly at Rowan’s cheek and she jumped. 

“You’re a little tree?” 

“Yep! My little tree.” Remus answered before she could. 

“So possessive.” laughed one. 

“All friendly little kissing cousins here.” He grinned at them, and set the meat to cooking. 

“Cousins?” Rowan asked, a little confused.

“We’re not  _ really  _ related.” the palest said, sounding a little insulted, frankly. “Not to him.” 

“I wouldn’t kiss him either.” offered another. “Not that I think he’d know what to do with a woman if he had one.”

“Hey!” Remus protested. “I know what to do with a woman, show her a good time. I just don’t.”

“Have a lot of practice?” offered the spiky one. 

“Actually full stop. But that too.” 

Rowan started giggling, covering her mouth, but Remus’s theatrically betrayed expression only made her giggle harder, which in turn made them continue teasing him, dragging his fashion sense, taste in food, and sexual habits. He took in remarkably good humor, only getting strained at a jab in his  _ taste  _ in men. Apologetically, they offered the mead to him, and pulled back to lie in a pile on the other side of the fire talking between themselves.

Rowan leaned against him, relaxing a bit. They were playful, but seemed nice. It was different; being around fae that weren’t Remus and not being terrified. 

“Did you know you look like an angry cat sometimes?” She said teasingly.

“Not a comparison I think anyone’s used before. Possum, yeah.” 

“Nah, you’re cuter than that.” She liberated the wine skin and took a gulp of mead before letting him have it back. 

“Definitely haven’t been called ‘cute’, and possums  _ are  _ cute.” 

“What  _ never _ ?” 

Remus thought about that, scratching his cheek. 

“Nope. Don’t think so. Don’t remember anyone saying it to me in particular.” 

She laughed and shook her head. 

“Adorable?”

“Definitely not.” 

“Pretty?”

“Okay that one yes, but you wouldn’t like the context.” 

Rowan choked on laughter. 

“Let me find a subject change real quick.”

“It’s not going to wooork. It’s in your head now.” He wriggled his fingers and eyebrows at her, like he was tickling her, and Rowan giggled, shoving at him. Turning to the dryads, she smiled. 

“Are you ladies family to each other, or uh... “ she wiggled her fingers trying to think of a polite way to say it. “Together.” she said at last, and endured their laughter. When they confirmed that they were ‘a thing’ or as Remus helpfully supplied ‘a hot slippery tangle’. Since she was absolutely sure that he was doing it on purpose, she asked what courtship was like for them, since she loved a good love story. 

This taught her an important lesson about fae that she had not previously considered. But it was kind of sweet anyway. 

“What do you think I’d be if I was fae?” Rowan asked Remus idly, having finally stopped blushing. 

“Summer.” Remus answered immediately, but then gave her an odd look. Rowan nodded, it was actually around her birthday right now, not that she’d told him that. “Maybe a nymph.” 

“Weed nymph.” Rowan snorted, ignoring her appropriate name. “Talking to the dandelions, the burdock and the plantain.” 

“Is that a thing you’d like?” one of the dryads asked, the one wearing vines as jewelry. 

“I- ah.” Rowan looked confused momentarily. “What?”

“No.” Remus answered for her. “Rowan’s human and good like that.” He ruffled her hair again. She pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling a little bit disoriented, like she’d missed something. Humans could get stuck in the underhill, but even changelings that were never returned were still just humans, living with the fae. Right? 

“Just saying.” they dismissed the idea. 

The moonlight was giving more light than the fire now, brilliant and dappled. 

“Everything okay?” Rowan asked. “You’re being pretty possessive there, stinkbug.” the tightness in her voice suggested that he was pushing it, frankly. 

He shrugged, 

“You’re my friend. Not sure what all is going on here. Since we apparently wandered into their playground. This  _ may  _ be a fun party. Since they’re seelie, mostly, and nice enough. I’ll be okay. You on the other hand...” He looked at Rowan seriously, then glanced across the fire. 

“It’s fine.” She assured him.

“It may be.” he agreed thoughtfully.

“Hey, witch-tree, sing again!” 

Rowan laughed, startled as the dryad addressed her. 

“You’re just making fun of me.” she accused. “I know I’m not a great singer.” 

“No, you know songs we haven’t heard.” 

“You know what that’s fair.” She tried to think of another song she felt confident in, as Remus offered her a bit of meat. Rowan smirked and looked over at him as she took it. “You can call me Leaf, if you’d like.” 

“Ah~” Remus pressed his hand to his chest, before laughing. 

“Sharing is caring, compost heap.” She stuck her tongue out and tipped over as she dodged, yanking herself and her tongue out of his reach. Playfully however, she dredged up songs from her childhood, managing three songs about fairies before stopping. 

“I refuse to believe that I’m that good entertainment. Hey, why don’t you sing ‘The First of May’ with me?” she elbowed Remus. “I feel weird being the only one singing.” 

“That's the one with all the fucking-” he confirmed. 

“So you remember it.” she grinned. 

“Course I do, it’s ridiculous. It goes-” He launched into it and she scrambled to catch up, made harder by laughing. It did feel like a party. And while Remus dropped out, she sang Bedlam Boys, which she sang at a gleeful mad cackle and almost stopped when the nymphs abandoned the mead bottle to dance. 

Rowan suddenly had understanding of the idiots who thoughtlessly joined in the fairy’s dances in songs, because she  _ knew  _ better, and she still wanted to leap up and dance as well. Her body itched with longing, and she wiggled in place, feet tapping and toes wiggling in the mast of the forest’s floor. They continued on when she stopped singing like they hadn’t even noticed. She would have thought that they didn’t notice the audience either if it weren’t for a tempting, inviting gap. 

“Can you pass me a drink?” she asked, since Remus was closer to her bag. If she couldn’t(shouldn’t, wouldn’t) join in, she wanted to watch. 

Rowan took a gulp from what Remus had handed her without thinking, only realizing after she’d swallowed that it wasn't her bottle. It was a hip flask, made out of some silvery metal that might well be real silver, engraved all over with vines. She looked at Remus, startled. 

“Trust me.” he said, and her eyebrows drew together. She opened her mouth to say something- and then it felt something like falling asleep, into a warm, dizzying, extended dream. 

And then she woke up. 

“Whaz goin’ on?” Rowan mumbled. The world was moving, but it didn’t feel like she was walking. Also her chest was warm, but her shoulders were cool probably because her dress had disappeared at some point. 

“I’m taking you home.” Oh that explained it. Remus was carrying her slung against his back. 

“No s’okay.” She said, not sounding particularly convincing. “Pummie down, I’ll draw on the earth, we can keep lookin’. Don’t want to lose you more time.”

“That’s sweet, little tree, but we’ve been gone for three days. Much longer and Mom’s gonna burn down the forest looking for you. Which would be  _ hilarious _ , not gonna lie, but…”

“Wha? No we just… we had one night, and then the second night, we ran into those ladies,”

“And then we danced for an entire day.” he said like it was the most obvious thing. “That makes this the fourth day.” 

“What? No.” 

“Yep! You were lucky they just wanted to dance.” 

“... that does explain why my feet feel like this.” They felt like they were still touching the ground, like each swing was a step. “I’m sorry. I’m heavy.”

“Not really. Squishy though.” He chuckled. “You’re affectionate when you’re drunk, by the way.”

She groaned, and hid her face against his shoulder. “Oh Gods, no.” She was exhausted, but she was awake now, and trying to remember anything. There were scraps, like from a dream. “I kissed them.”

“You kissed  _ everybody _ .” he confirmed teasingly. “Dancing, kissing, laughing. You also tried to fight a tree.”

“Did the tree have it coming?” 

“Well you said it grabbed your ass, but I didn’t see anything. Well, they’re dryads, so I didn’t see  _ that  _ tree grab your ass.” 

Rowan groaned again. 

“By the way, you’re starting to do that bleedy thing, so you’d probably rather be home anyway.” 

“As my friend, can you kindly bury me and leave me to rot?”

“... strange request, but sure. Going to wait until you’re actually dead though.” 

“Holding you to that.” She mumbled. Rowan was too sore to to anything but cling and let him carry her. After a bit she smacked his arm. “Mad at you.”

“What’s that?”

“Mad at you.” she repeated, face pressed to his shoulder. “Fuckin’ magic roofied me.” 

“Roofie is?”

“Drugged.” 

“Wined.” He countered. 

“Don’t split hairs with me, fairy boy.” 

“ _ Racist _ . It’s in my nature.” he laughed. Rowan smiled, hidden in his mantle, and squeezed her arms around him. 

She’d forgive him and he knew it. It drew the teeth of any anger she had. 

  
  


(Some of the Songs Rowan Sang: 

[ Gay Pirates (Extended) ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J7ujAIkIlGg)

[ "A Maid in Bedlam" by The Bedlam Boys ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EjH0WJ3_yKU)

[ "THE CAPTIVE" LYRICS by HEATHER ALEXANDER: She sits and she... ](https://www.flashlyrics.com/lyrics/heather-alexander/the-captive-33)

[ Martin Carthy – Willie's Lady Lyrics ](https://genius.com/Martin-carthy-willies-lady-lyrics)

[ The Witch of the Westmorlands [Archie Fisher] ](https://mainlynorfolk.info/folk/songs/thewitchofthewestmorlands.html)

[ Poems - A Smuggler's Song ](http://www.kiplingsociety.co.uk/poems_smuggler.htm) (couldn’t find the version she sang, so lyrics)

[ Shalott - Emilie Autumn (with lyrics) ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2WcopLM6xpE)

[ Finnean's Dance ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QVsBa2yeHeg)

[ Oak & Ash & Thorn) ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PWEyzKhzDM8)

[ The moss | Cosmo Sheldroke (Lyrics) ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IUZl9DMHfzs)

[ Joni Mitchell A Case Of You Lyrics ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=020l9ZLFrck)

[ Heather Alexander - Bedlam Boys ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ov3qvKMhfHo)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, thank you very much forrestwyrm (on ao3) who I met on the Love and Other Fairy Tales Discord, and who designed the nymphs that they run into in this chapter and gave me permission to use them in this chapter. I wanted to have Rowan and Remus have a more positive encounter with other fae in the woods, but wanted to do something a little different, so borrowing someone else's characters seemed right. They're called Maple (he/him, seelie), Willow (she/her, seelie) Pine (she/her, unseelie) and Marla (She/her, seelie).
> 
> Rowan's mother is a folklorist, and her family was/is in the SCA- she knows a lot of songs about fae. 
> 
> Eyrie: You're a feral bastard.  
Jerry: you're a terrifyingly powerful madman.  
the dryads: you're a big gay idiot.  
Remus: All of these things are true! 
> 
> Important to me is that Rowan finally faces the consequences of trusting Remus so much. It didn't hurt her much, and he was their to basically 'spot' her and keep her from doing anything she'd regret too much; but at the same time, he did it. 
> 
> Things that are kind of subtexty: Remus was being possessive of his nickname for Rowan as much as of her. Rowan however, blatantly stole the nickname her family calls Remus for her own use in this situation.


	36. The Diffrence Between Creepy and Romantic is Consent

Rowan was one frustrated witch. 

While she had never been good at finding people or animals, things- and to a lesser degree- places were things she could find if not with ease, with only a bit of effort. They were going on two months now, and she mostly felt worn down by the search. The pendulum swung in tight, apologetic circles, as if trying to make up for it’s failure with enthusiasm. 

“Normally if I’m looking for someone, the best thing is to have a bit of hair or something I can put in the pendulum.” She made a jerking motion and snatched the pendulum back up into her palm, frowning. Sliding the ring off her finger, she shoved it into the outside pocket of her bag, and closed her eyes, reaching out blindly. “It’s like… I’m looking for something I don’t even know what it looks like, I don’t know the shape of it. Or I’m trying to grasp a reflection. All I can see is trees, which is... useless, and the harder I reach I just get… angry. It’s beyond hot anger, beyond cold anger, it’s all the way out the other side. It’s… fermented.” Rowan opened her eyes again, and stared down at her palms. They were crossed with dirt, and littered with bits of bark and leaf mold. “Insanity,” she said conversationally “Is attempting the same thing over and over again, and expecting different results.” or she thought, trusting fae. Well it wasn’t as if she had any illusions of her own sanity. 

His legs swung from his perch in a tree. “You said that before too.”

“And now I’m repeating myself, great.” Rowan pressed her hands over her eyes, dragging them down her face. 

“If… if there  _ was  _ something, you’d be more likely to be able to find it?” He asked. 

“I don’t see how it matters.” She sighed, and started digging in her bag. Maybe if she tried a different way. She had some L rods in her bag. They were better for directions but less reliable for her. Or maybe she should make a dowsing rod from material in the forest. That would be a link that might help. 

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not going to happen. We don’t have anything personal to use as a guide, let alone a piece of Him.” 

“But if we did…” 

Rowan snorted and looked up at him. 

“Can’t say for sure, but yes. If we did, it would improve the chances almost uncountably.” 

Remus took a long breath in, and let it out, then he reached inside his coat, to an inner pocket. Sliding down, and coming close, he extended his hand out and slowly uncurled his fingers to display his prize.

It was a pendant, silver frame work and sheets of crystal, with a small bit of something pressed between the two. She took it gently by the bael- Remus flinched as if he’d yank it back, even though he was holding it out for her to see- so it would hold still for her to get a closer look. It appeared to be a bit of shed scales, like from a snake, smaller than her littlest nail. Her eyes widened.

“There is no way he knew you had this.” 

His hand jerked the chain a bit, and she let the pendant go, but he didn’t say anything, just curled his fingers around it again. 

Rowan took a deep breath. “That- that would probably do it. The pendant itself would even work for a pendulum, so it would stay safe.” 

He held his fist to his heart and didn’t move it, not meeting her eyes. Reaching out, she laid her hand on the back of his.

“Remus. I give you my word.” she said quietly. “I swear on my name, my blood and my honor; I will only use this for the task you asked me for, and I will return it  _ every time _ to your hand.” 

“You’re an idiot.” He said conversationally, but his shoulders relaxed.

Rowan gestured around the forest expressively, indicating that she wouldn’t be there if she wasn’t. He snorted, and it turned into a laugh. After a few moments she laughed too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Normally lover's tokens have hair in them, Remus.
> 
> catch me with questions, comments and concerns over at thebestworstidea on tumblr.


	37. I am Streached on Your Grave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is chock full of suicidal thoughts, and frank discussion there of.   
If that's going to hurt you, you can skip it without missing much. 
> 
> It's also not in the proper place in the timeline, as it showed up long after it happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is chock full of suicidal thoughts, and frank discussion there of.   
If that's going to hurt you, you can skip it without missing much. 
> 
> It's also not in the proper place in the timeline, as it showed up long after it happened.

_ The new moon had never been Rowan’s favorite phase. She preferred the moon to the stars. Especially in the summer when the light just flooded the world, making shapes in the leaves. There weren’t even stars right now. It was a warm, damp, overcast night, and there was no moon. There wasn’t any fog, but it  _ ** _felt _ ** _ like fog. Her mind felt fuzzy and disconnected.  _

_ “What will you do if we find it?” Rowan asked, not for the first time.  _

_ There was a long pause.  _

_ “I really don’t know.” he said quietly. “I think about it a lot, but I still don’t know. Maybe it depends on what we find.” He scratched the back of his head, and crossed his arms, almost protectively. “I never expected to be in a situation like this. I never thought about being like this. It hurts, and I hate it. It sucks like a chest wound in a mudhole.” _

_ “That sounds like…” she pictured it. “Like it hurts and the more you struggle the worse it gets.” _

_ “Yeah. Something like that.” his grip on himself tightened, and Rowan leaned against him, not wanting to risk a hug if he didn’t want it, but wanting to comfort. “I want Him back, I want to hold Him again. I don’t want to be without Him.” Remus’s fingers dug into his arms. “I’d rather be dead. What else would I do?” _

_ “Okay.” _

_ “Okay?”  _

_ “I understand.” Rowan rested her head on his shoulder. He relaxed, just barely. _

_ “... I’m afraid you might.”  _

_ “It takes over a month to die of starvation.” Rowan started playing with the end of her braid, as she teased facts from her brain. “ _ ** _If_ ** _ you keep drinking water. Without water, it’s less than a week. Exposing yourself-” _

_ Remus snorted in spite of the tone in the conversation. _

_ “Exposing yourself can make that faster, depending on the weather. That’s humans.” she added.  _

_ “People experiment with this?” _

_ “Well, they do studies. There were some experiments but they were supposed to be about recovery, not death. Starving is my favorite way to kill myself. So much time to change your mind.” _

_ “I don’t think that’d work for me.” Remus said thoughtfully, watching her fingers combing out the end of her braid, then braiding it below the elastic, then unbraiding it. “I can last a long time with just sunlight. If my body gets really desperate, I don’t even have to drink water; My skin absorbs it.”  _

_ “All this time I thought you were a fruit, and you’re really a plant.” Rowan joked weakly. Remus tickled her nose with a leaf, unfolding enough to put his arm around her.  _

_ “I wonder if I planted myself, could I turn into a tree?”  _

_ “I think maybe you could? Sounds like it would take effort.”  _

_ “Also I might still be, you know, alive. Aware. Kind of the opposite of what I want. Could cut out my heart at the altar of His grave.” _

_ “Messy. Poetic. Eight out of ten, I think you’d go into shock when you cracked your ribcage to get it out.”  _

_ “I wouldn’t be a good angle to get my hands on it up through the stomach, I guess.”  _

_ “Still. Dying for want of someone sure seems easier than living, even for other people. That’s what I’m doing. Living for other people. It’s exhausting.” _

_ “Pretty sure that’s not healthy.” _

_ “I do **not** want to hear that from  _ ** _you_ ** _ .”  _

_ “I’d know.” For a few long moments they were both quiet, then Remus asked something, so quietly that she almost missed it. “Do you think we’ll find it?”  _

_ “I said I’d do everything I could do to do that.” Rowan answered. “I keep my promises.”  _

_ “I don’t deserve you.” _

_ “Shape up then.” there was a breath. “I dream about drowning. I don’t know why, I’ve never… nothing bad has ever really happened to me in the water. But it never feels bad.”  _

_ “The ocean would eat us alive and not even notice.”  _

_ “That’s the dream.” she sighed.  _

_ “Humans turn to dirt when they die, like animals, right?”  _

_ “We  _ ** _are _ ** _ animals. Yeah. Turn to dirt and feed plants.”  _

_ “Nice.” He paused thinking “What if I died while trying to turn into a plant. D’you think I’d go back to air and dark or get stuck?”  _

_ “I don’t even know how my afterlife works. I got nothing on whatever spark makes you you.”  _

_ “But you still want to go?” _

_ “I… have faith it will hurt less. I’m a firm believer in recycling though. Maybe I’d get a chance to be a fairy, next time.”  _

_ Remus laughed, but it was weak.  _

_ “When I first started looking, I thought maybe I’d just… live there. Guard the grave.” _

_ “Being the steadfast knight huh?” _

_ “It’s not what He wanted out of me. He had it anyway.” _

_ “What did He want?” _

_ “He encouraged me to be crazy.” _

_ “What, you needed help?” _

_ Remus laughed. “No, but mostly people tried to get me to stop. I mean, you do.” _

_ “And so effectively.” she drawled.  _

_ “He liked the way people reacted when I obeyed, given that well… there was no controlling me otherwise. It was fun.” Remus grinned at a memory. “Not thinking. I mean not always.” He blinked slowly. “But I think… I think this isn’t for Him. I think it’s for me.” _

_ “Most funeral rites are for the living, not the dead.” Rowan offered. “Mourning doesn’t mean much to a corpse. It’s living after that’s the hard part.”  _

_ He turned his face into her shoulder, and bit at it idly, not getting through her dress. She moved her hand from her hair to his and stared into the dark.  _

_ “I loved him. I still do. I never told Him because he wouldn’t have wanted to hear it. I wish I had.” Remus’s voice was muffled by her shoulder, but she heard him anyway, and held him tighter, fingers smoothing through his hair over and over. “Can you tell me… did I fail Him?” _

_ “I think you were probably the truest thing He had. But what the fuck do I know?”  _

_ “You See things. I would have died for Him. I’d die now if it’d bring Him back.” _

_ “That’d be stupid.”  _

_ Remus bit a bit harder, and she turned her face to bite at his scalp in retaliation. She wondered if it was her, or if he really didn’t smell as bad as he used to. Probably both. _

_ “He wouldn’t live long without you dumbass. You think anyone else would give a fucking empty cocoon for His life?”  _

_ “You’d help.” _

_ “I’d help YOU. But you’d have to be alive for it, asshole. Don’t leave me with your mess.”  _

_ “Aw, you’d miss me.” _

_ “Don’t be stupid. Of course I would.” _

_ There was no light and no fog, but they stayed together feeling lost.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, come yell at me [thebestworstidea](https://thebestworstidea.tumblr.com)


	38. Graveyard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry.

Whenever they stopped for more than a few minutes, she handed the pendant back. He held it in his whole hand, she avoided touching more than the chain or bael. It became a rhythm. But the pendant had a distinct if faint pull, more steady than anything she’d tried before. It started to feel like it was pulling on her gut, too. Faint and steady and sickly. That was probably in her head. Or gut rather. She stuffed all her weariness and worries deep into her gut and ignored them. She could deal with them later. 

The forest was fairly thick where they were. The crowns of the trees met with barely a gap, and there little underbrush, low, clinging vines and mostly. Mostly she watched where she was going and the swinging of the pendant, but something caught her eye. Rowan paused, scooping a long curl of white bark from the ground.

“Huh.” she murmured “Paper birch. I haven’t seen much of that around.” 

“Does that mean something?” 

“I dunno. Have you seen any?” 

He thought about it. 

“No. For all that it’s light the bark doesn’t generally travel too far. Is it important? Should I take a look?” 

“You can move faster than I can. If you can do a loop and I’ll just keep following?” They both watched the pendant sway petulantly at the end of it’s chain. 

“Give a yell if you find anything interesting.”

“Believe me, I will.” she said flatly, and he grinned at her before disappearing into the trees and the gold tinged gloom of the morning. Moving as smoothly as possible she kept moving forward, like following a compass north. 

There was torn ground, like the topsoil had been disturbed by a runoff, a few trees tipped on their sides, roots showing, and dead, moss and mushrooms starting to devour them. When she’d climbed over that, she found them. The birches were young, slender and stark white in the darkness of the forest, thin branches interlocking like a morris dance. Long coiling curls of bark separated from the branches, trailing like spanish moss or tattered cloth. 

“Trees like bones.” mumbled Rowan, staring at them. 

“I found more birch bark.” Remus’s hands were full of it, and he was taking it into smaller pieces idly as he approached. “S’weird. I don’t see any trees around.”

“... what.” Rowan turned to face him. “But…” reaching out, she touched the smooth bark of one of the trees, inching her hand up and pulling a strip free. Somehow more came loose than she intended, not a curl but a strip, and sticky with sap that was darker than she would have expected, staining her hand. Leaning down she went to rub the sap off on the knee of her pants and her head reeled suddenly. It was an intense feeling, it was an echo and it felt familiar. Something she’d brushed against before. Rowan managed to get herself upright again. Remus leaned over her shoulder, then looked up at the tree, squinting. 

“Hey, what was that shudder for?” he asked. 

“Wasn’t you.” 

“So where’d the bark come from?” He asked, looking down at her hand. She looked at him, then back at the trees. 

“Uh…” She pointed. “There’s a whole grove of birches. I’m standing right in front of it.” 

His brow wrinkled and he looked seriously around, then back at the shredded bark in his hands. 

“... I don’t see them.” 

“I can’t see past them.” Rowan said very quietly. The pendant swung towards the birches. Reaching out the hand that wasn’t holding the pendant, she held it out to him. He dropped what he was holding and laced their fingers together. She took a deep breath and looked carefully, ducking forward, squeezing between the trunks. It felt tighter than it was. Once she was past them everything seemed normal, a grove of nothing but young paper birches perhaps twenty feet across at most. Then Rowan felt- something and her eyes squeezed shut for a long moment. It felt like something was screaming at her. It felt like the air had changed pressure around her. Like the earth was yanked out from under her feet. When her eyes opened, Remus was crowded close behind her, holding her up as she swayed. There was something in the grove with them. Cautiously she stumbled the few feet towards the center of the grove, which was bare even of moss and dead leaves. Then she stopped.

“That’s … blasted ground. Not a curse, just a remnant of an emotion. Or more than one, I guess.” Rowan circled it. She reached out a hand like she was testing how warm a fire was and jerked her hand back. “I … I don’t think I should step onto it.” 

It was bare like the land after a wild fire. 

It was blasted like a lighting strike. 

It was slick like the imprint left by a dead animal’s rot. 

It wasn’t perfectly circular, more like the shape of something that had curled up to sleep- or die. And in the middle… it looked like the skeleton of a large snake, deformed somehow. It hurt to look at, so she didn’t, pacing the edge with the pendant slowly swinging. Tipping inward, always swinging towards the blight. Reaching Remus, who was still standing where they entered, she took his hand and returned it one last time. “I think… that if anything is. This is it.” she spoke softly. He stared at it, making the pendant disappear into his coat. 

“Well fuck me.” Remus whispered. He grabbed her hand again. “You did it.” 

“Yay.” she said faintly. He squeezed her hand. She squeezed back, and held on while he sank slowly down to his knees. The bend of his knees fell just short of the edge of the imprint. His breathing was unsteady, and his lips kept moving as if he wanted to say something, but he didn’t. 

She combed her fingers through his hair and hummed under her breath, soothingly like one would for a child. He blinked rapidly, but didn’t cry. Eventually his breathing evened out. 

She stared at him for a long time, then stepped away and sat down near the edge of the clearing, as far as she could get from the center, taking out a small bottle with a bit of stone in it, and a largish metal pendulum. The top of the pendulum unscrewed. She carefully tipped the stone in, sealed it and stood back up. The pendulum took the bait that was the foundation of her home, and pulled steadily in one direction. She took a slow circuit of the small clearing, and it kept pulling. She would  _ probably  _ be able to find her way home. Rowan covered her mouth with her hand, covering the choking sound that escaped and looked back at Remus who still hadn’t moved from where he was kneeling just outside the blasted area. She moved and sat behind him, pressing their backs together. She watched the sky through the branches, and breathed slowly. Finally she spoke. 

“Did you know that intestines are constantly moving? It’s part of what makes them work. So when they’re freed from the abdominal cavity, they’ll move around like a pile of eels, if the person they’re attached to is still alive. Blood loss can take a while to kill.” She could feel a huff of breath. The witch pulled her bag into her lap, and searched through it. “There are over twenty feet of intestine in the average person.” Finding what she was looking for she put a bag made of undyed silk beside him, twisting slightly to do it. “I didn’t know how big it would be, so this would take a human sized skeleton if you decide to move it.” She was crying but kept her voice light. “And if you don’t…” on top of it, she put her knife. “The steel should make you heal slower, so you’ll have time to spread your guts out.” Another huff of breath, kind of like a laugh. Rowan stayed silent as she could, but couldn’t help sniffling. After a bit she spoke again. “I don’t think I can watch either way.” She got slowly to her knees, and turned around and hugged him, laying her wet cheek on his hair. “Love you.” she mumbled, before letting go. “Terrible idea, really.” Rowan started to leave; then stopped. “Just remember that there’s always a choice, if you remember you can make it.” She didn’t look back, squeezing between the birch trees. 

“Salt, failure. Salt, loss. Salt, regret. Don’t look back.” she mumbled following the tug of her lead. 

She’d cry more later. 

Living afterwards was the hard part, after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come yell at me on tumblr I'm thebestworstidea


	39. Bury a Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Billie Eiliesh's Song

She walked for the rest of the day. At dusk she stopped by a stream to drink water and take off her shoes. Rowan was tired, but she didn’t want to sleep in the forest without someone to guard her. She would just walk it out. One foot in front of the other, ignoring the tempting lights that flickered occasionally. They wouldn’t lead her home. Her pendulum would, steadily linking to her house. The faint pull of the chain against her fingers. Focus on that, not the darkness and the shadows in the trees. If she stopped, there was no guarantee that she wouldn’t sleep. If she stopped she’d have to  _ think _ . 

“Hey.”

Rowan shrieked and swung her boots by the laces. Hitting Roman- who had inadvertently snuck up on her before speaking- in the head.

“Ow. What the fuck, Wendy.” 

She stared at him dimly, blinking several times. 

“What?”

“What what?”

“In the butt?” she blinked a few times. “What are you… doing here?” she looked around as if verifying where she was. 

“What am  _ I _ doing here, what are  _ you  _ doing here?”

“Walking home?” Rowan dropped her boots and rubbed her eye with her free hand. “... I totally hit you, sorry about that.” 

“What would you have done if it hadn’t been me?” 

“Probably hit them again.” she shrugged. “But seriously, even a-” Rowan waved her hand vaguely. “Fairy-consort isn’t normally found in the middle of the woods at night, at a random location.” 

“You’re human you know, you could just say ‘boyfriend’.”

“Well maybe I like fancy words, witch-consort.” she retorted. “I do  _ not  _ like people suddenly showing up where I am for no reason. Especially when I am pretty deep into the middle of nowhere.” 

“You could also say ‘husband’.” he offered as she finished her grouch. 

Rowan looked instantly more awake, and her jaw dropped, but she smiled, if only because of the smug look on his face. 

“What? Really? Congratulations. That must be new.”

“Pretty new.” 

“Then you definitely don’t have to be helping me. You clearly have better things to do. How did you even know where I was?”

“It isn’t a big deal. There’s lots of places to exit fairyland, and I just picked the one closest to where you were.” 

“No, I mean how did you find me?” she repeated. 

“I guess you don’t realise the kind of gossip you’ve been generating this summer.” 

A cold wave of emotion crashed into Rowan’s chest, momentarily burning away more of her weariness. 

“Gossip?”

“Mostly guesses about what you’re doing out here. I’m here to walk you home. You may have been out hiking this summer but I think I have more experience.” 

“I’m not  _ that  _ old.” She sighed. “But that’s very kind of you. Yeah, probably.” 

“Oh definitely. It was more chain of gossip, a wisp saw you walking alone and told a pixie, who decided for reasons of his own to tell a friend of mine, and she told me.” 

Rowan made a humming noise, jiggling the chain of her lead. She thought she might know the reason, so she probably wouldn’t see Jerry again, unless they got chickens again. 

Roman gestured at the pendulum.

“You’re using that a little differently than I do.” he commented.

“Ah.” Rowan shifted a bit uncomfortably, picking her boots back up and slinging them over her shoulder. “This one’s specifically for finding specific things. The top unscrews, and then you put an indicator in and then it pulls towards the rest.” She started walking. “It’s got a bit of stone from the foundation of my house. I may walk around in circles for a while, but eventually, I’ll get home. Less effective in moving cars.” 

“What sort of stuff works for that?” he fell into step beside her. 

Idly they chatted about witchery for a while, techniques, tools, traditions. It was a nice neutral subject that they had in common. Far safer than the other subject they had in common. Though eventually the conversation did drift. Remus was conspicuous even in his absence. 

“What was it that you were doing for him?” Roman inquired lightly, much the same as he’d asked about jewelweed. 

She looked over at him unimpressed. 

“You know, you two are a lot alike.”

“You take that back.” It was sort of playful. 

“I just mean he used to try the same casual conversational manipulation.” 

“Well, we probably learned it in the same place.” 

“There are worse things to be like than my green brother.” Rowan argued. “He’s loyal, protective and sweet and kind and fierce.” 

“You and I saw different sides of him.” Roman suggested diplomatically, though his face was sour enough to make pickles. 

“Oh, he was also gross, crude, violent and nasty, but…” She shrugged. “That’s what makes things grow, sometimes.”

“Brother, huh? How did that happen?”

“You know I’m not sure.” Rowan thought about it. “I mean, there’s the whole blood brothers thing, but we didn’t make a big deal about it; it just… became a thing that was true?” She shrugged. “It’s like any other kind of love. You don’t always notice when it happens.” 

“Back up to the blood pact you made with a fae…”

“It wasn’t like  _ that _ . We just … kind of bled on eachother. So it got to be a joke.” She gave a thin smile. “I am learning about blood magic and fae, if you’re interested…”

“I am not. I am mildly concerned.” 

“If it makes you feel better my sample size is really small.” she grinned broadly. Strangely it made him feel like he could see a family resemblance. 

“Maybe lean away from the wicked witch thing there, Wendy.” 

“Ah, Wicked. A fine old Welsh word meaning wise.” she tapped the side of her nose.

“Really?”

“No.” snorting with amusement she shook her head then sighed theatrically. “And no one ever questions me when I say it. So I have to admit that I’m pulling a jape.” 

“Did you honestly just say ‘pulling a jape’?” 

“Yes?” Rowan shifted uncomfortably as he peered at her. “What?!” 

“I’m just… making sure you aren’t really a changeling. Normal people don’t talk like that.” 

“I … I sure as fuck hope I’m not.” She tugged at the black hoop in her earlobe. “Or these would hurt a lot. And for the record I do ‘talk like that’ my entire family ‘talks like that’ and yes I am aware it’s an unusual speech pattern.” Rowan sighed. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be grouchy.” 

“But you’ve lived here your whole life.”

“If I hadn’t, your grandmother being the midwife would have been a great deal more unusual.” 

“Thank you, I love thinking about Mawmaw’s work.” 

“Just think- that could be you.”

“What the hell, Wendy.” Roman looked vaguely ill. 

“Male midwives are a thing.” 

“Please say ‘sike’ 

“I’m very sorry, Peter, I don’t think I can.” she said as sweetly as she could manage. 

“You’re  _ horrible _ .” he said, half laughing. “You and your green friend match.” 

“ _ Thank you. _ Let’s be honest, I don’t have a lot of friends to start with.” Rowan said with false cheer. “Between the paganism and the historical reenactment, my family is weird even for around here. Thank the gods for alternative medicine, or I’d be unemployed.” 

“Maybe  _ you  _ should talk to Mawmaw about apprenticing.”

“I’ve talked to her, and I like my skin attached, thanks. Besides, look up some other woman’s business and haul out a baby? No thank you!” 

Roman couldn’t help but laugh at the description. 

“Gross.”

“That  _ is _ my point.” 

“You know, I was wondering something. Where do you get the jewelry you sell?”

“Smooth transition.” she snorted.

“I mean, it’s wrot iron, right?” 

“Some of it, yeah.”

“Where do you get wrot iron earrings, bracelets and rings? They’re so… delicate looking!” 

“I know a blacksmith. He was a friend of my father. It’s brag work, if you’re familiar with the term. Making iron hoops small and light enough to be worn as earrings. I add steel and silver bridges that go through the ears though.” 

“But what do you tell him?”

“That they’re for protection about fairies.” She looked at him blankly. “What, I’m going to lie?” 

“What about the slave collars?”

“The what?” Rowan looked really confused for a moment. “... oh … that kind of necklace is called a torc. It’s not a collar. I mean… no judgy… but.” She coughed. “I mean, I’ve seen people wear stuff like that for you know… that kind of thing. But usually they’ve got locks on them when it’s like that.” The silence started to get awkward. Rowan stopped looking at him, focusing instead on the ground in front of her. 

Given the limited light they had to work with they were moving slowly but steadily, following Rowan’s pendulum. Roman was fairly sure he could get them back to town without it; but for now he let her lead the way. The sounds of the forest, trees creaking, night birds singing, the faint sound of animals in underbrush filled in the silence for almost a half an hour, leaving them both with their thoughts. 

“Did you find it?”

“Find what?” Rowan said, entirely too innocently. 

He stopped and she stopped too. 

“Wendy, do me a favor- don’t treat me like an idiot.” 

Her eyes flitted over to him at the sharpness of the tone. She shifted another few steps away.

“I’m not stupid.” he continued, shifting back and forth in place. “I have a pretty good idea what you two were looking for. And why you wouldn’t talk about it even if you could. And I want to know.  _ Did you find it _ ?”

Her breath burned in her lungs, she didn’t realise she’d been holding it. 

“If it existed to be found, yes. I think we did.” Even admitting that much was like a weight off her back. If he was wrong, then he was lying to himself. If he was right, she hadn’t actually said anything. His eyes squeezed shut and his entire being stilled for a long moment. Processing the thought. This-  _ He _ \- The Serpent King- was the tie that connected Roman and Remus, and she couldn’t imagine it was positive in the least. Remus had been almost entirely positive about his descriptions, but he was also  _ honest. _ As a person who grew up in Wickhills, she knew the dangers of the fae, and having gotten to know Remus, she knew that fae could be just as cruel if not more so to each other. They could be kind, but somehow… she didn’t think He had been. Roman’s hands clenched and unclenched as he took deep breaths. 

All she could do was wait, her heart getting colder and colder. 

All she could do was wonder how he’d react. Because she had no place to even begin guessing. But he was  _ nice _ . That she’d heard, so that was something. 

“You found it. Remus was with you. So what are you doing out here alone?” he asked after a long silence. She startled, not expecting that question. 

“I left him. We found what we were looking for. The deal was over. It was time for me to go home. He didn’t need me- Oh god.” suddenly she clapped a hand over her mouth like she was nauseous, staring into the night. “I abandoned him. What was I thinking I-” she turned around as if to go back the way she came, and her eyes filled with tears, over taking her like flood waters. “I’d never have found it without- I can’t get back.” Rowan dug her hands into her hair, shaking her head. “How could I be so selfish?” her guide dropped to the end of it’s tether, swinging free now her attention away from it. “Why wasn’t I  _ more  _ selfish?” she whispered helplessly. 

“Are you alright?”

“Me?” her eyes were full of tears and she blinked rapidly to clear them. “Oh I... “ Rowan’s mouth moved as if she wanted to say something and couldn’t. “I’ll live.” she said at last. 

“Why did you leave him there?”

“I couldn’t watch.” Her arms clenched across her stomach. “If he did what he’d talked about… I couldn’t bear to watch.” There was a long pause. 

“You thought he was suicidal and you left him  _ alone _ ?”

“What kind of right do I have to make him live if he didn’t want to any more?” She demanded hysterically “Why would I hurt him like that? I don’t have… I couldn’t offer him anything equal what he lost. So. There’s a good chance he won’t be a problem for you again.” Rowan was sure that this would lose any chance she had of some sort of friendship with him. But there hadn’t been much chance of that anyway, she told herself. She was  _ used  _ to not being liked. “Yay for you.” she choked out.

“You believe that.”

“It’s not the kind of wound I can heal.” she twisted her braid in both hands. “Maybe I made the wrong choice. But what choice was mine, I made it, and now I just have to live with it. And with letting him make his choices.” Rowan swallowed and swung her pendulum back into position. “You can go. I’m sorry. I’ll find my way home.”

“... No.” he shook his head. “No. I think I’ll feel better if I get you back to your family.” 

There it was. Nice. She just didn’t expect it out of other people.

Her face pinched a little bit, but the pendulum swung once, twice and then stayed in place. She started walking again. He walked behind her, a strange unconscious echo. It felt wrong, and it felt right, and her shoulders hunched painfully. She shivered from time to time and swallowed heavily but didn’t cry. Finally she gave up and pulled her shawl out of her bag. It only helped a little. 

“I’m serious though, are you alright?”

She turned and glared at Roman.

“Stop asking.  _ Please _ .” she hissed. “I’m fucking  _ wrecked _ , okay? But I have to hold it together until I get home.” Rowan scrubbed at her eyes, and took a drink from her bottle. After a moment, she offered it to him. He declined gently. Taking another gulp, she slid it back into place. “Your turn.” she croaked. “What happened at the revel?” She didn’t think she needed to specify which one. Rowan held the pendulum up like a lantern and started again. It didn’t really matter if he answered or not. 

“I want you to know that no one sent people after him.” Roman started. 

“Yeah, it looked like a lynch mob. Just a bunch of people looking for a safe target to commit violence on.” 

Roman stared into the woods, not looking at her. 

“When I say that the entire thing is complicated, I’m not trying to duck out. It is. Was. I don’t… I don’t think I  _ could  _ explain it if I  _ wanted  _ to.”

“You don’t have to.” She said quietly. “You know I have no way of making you explain anything.” 

“No I can… I can tell you about the revel. What happened there. I was absolutely not as sober as I should have been, all things considered.”

“Tale as old as time.” Rowan sang under her breath. 

“It was a bad idea, and believe me, I’ve been told that. I know it. It’s stupid to feel empathy for someone who tried to kill you on multiple occasions. But I did. And guilt. And I guess. Things are better now, and I don’t hurt like I used to. And he was hurting. A pain that I am uniquely qualified to sympathize with, even if it… feels wrong.” He exhaled slowly. “We talked, I mean, actually talked. I think it might have been the best conversation we ever had. Not a high bar, but still.” He made a sound vaguely related to laugh. “Then out of nowhere, he just kissed me- full on kissed. Out of nowhere!” He tossed his hands up. “So I punched him, and he was laughing, I mean I broke his nose, and he was laughing. But I guess that looked like I was attacked even though he was bleeding and I wasn’t. So my friend got defensive- she doesn’t like Remus anyway. I don’t know if she meant to actually impale him like that; and I haven’t asked. But he ran, and then people chased. Things have been… comparatively chill since V took power back. I guess they just wanted to-” 

“When something runs, they chase.” Rowan said softly. “My green friend once told me not to run from him because he wanted to chase.” 

“Okay, that’s what confuses me; if he said things like that, how are you  _ friends _ ?” 

“He’s not human. It would be wrong of me to expect him to think like one.” She stepped on something, winced, and shifted a bit before continuing. “Besides, isn’t that a normal urge? Haven’t you ever seen something move and leapt after it before you thought about it?” She glanced over. “Never even chased pigeons?” 

“Not pigeons, no.” 

Rowan thought a bit, then dropped the subject. 

They walked in silence again. Rowan tried to speed up, but walking faster wouldn’t get her out of the forest any sooner. It would let go when it let go.

It wasn’t darkest just before the dawn. 

Before dawn began properly the world was already starting to show light, and that was when Rowan spotted an old stone boundary fence. It wasn’t automatically one near her home, but it did mean they were reaching the edges of the woods. The sun was just clearing the horizon when her house came in view through the trees. 

“Thank you.” She said, but didn’t look at him, focused on her house. “For walking me home. I appreciate the thought. But you should get home too.” 

“For what it’s worth, Rowan...” 

She turned and stared at him. 

“I hope you’re wrong. I hope you see him again.” 

“So do I.” 

_ So I ask you; what fairy tale do they deserve? _

_ What challenges have they faced, what deeds have been done?  _

_ What would a happy ending be? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's uh.   
That's more or less it for this story. 
> 
> Rowan and Roman's conversation about 'did you find it' was one of the last concrete things I had. 
> 
> I do however have a detached scene of Roman and Remus at the revel, which I'm planning on posting just to bring the chapters to an even number, but wouldn't fit in the story because I did a pretty good job of sticking to Rowan as the point of view character. 
> 
> Questions? Complaints? Wisecracks?  
I'm serious about the questions, I was planning on answering some, I've got a text block of world building. 
> 
> [Spotify playlist which I gave a nifty cover](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Fplaylist%2F0fODWEoXsZK3yBTWQ3S21U%3Fsi%3DKR-yQHtrRpez7OxWfRF9MA&t=NDc5MDkxMTNjNWE2YTIzYzZmMTMzODQzYzE1ZTA0YWJhZWFiYWZiZixqenBlWUxvRQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AEc2Wn4p4VhSy5TXm5Ioqsg&p=https%3A%2F%2Fthebestworstidea.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F619924020227391488%2Fchapter-39-bury-a-friend-for-fun-times-heres&m=0)


	40. Extra: Red Knight/Green Knight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have a look inside what happened the night Remus got the stuffing knocked out of him.

When Remus had returned from his quest, his reaction was a fairly subdued ‘Welcome back’ when he saw Virgil, followed by an equally casual ‘where’s D, then?’ Maybe his acceptance of the news of his death was shock, maybe not. It was well over a week later, when Roman was visiting, when Remus had come out of nowhere, and slammed him into a wall with a snarl of ‘Warlock-Knight’. It seemed he’d learned a little more about what happened. Roman had actually handled that fairly well and both of them had to be separated before the fight reached bloodletting. That was when Remus had been told to stay away, and mutinous glares aside, he had. (He understood the anger; he didn’t want to see more death)

Roman had been the one to see him, sitting apart from anyone at the revel, playing with a toy, a mug resting by his leg. The season had just turned and it would have made more sense for him to be more boisterous, but instead there was just dull melancholy, following the wiggle of the jointed wooden toy, ignoring everything around him. Roman looked away, not sure what the sight was stirring in him. Then he realized. 

It was empathy. And maybe a little guilt. He could remember that kindness was not response to Remus’s unwavering devotion to Dee. And At the time, he hadn’t even really thought about it. Remus was just there, watching, glaring, and eventually as he was sent away more and more sparking to genuine anger. In all honesty Roman hadn’t thought the first attempt was a serious attempt on his life. The second one more so- and he couldn’t remember the third, since he’d been struck from behind and knocked unconscious. But he had been present when Dee had sent Remus away. And he remembered… being  _ pleased  _ at the heartbreak on Remus’ face. Feeling  _ smug _ even. Taking it as a sign of affection- he’d been so desperate in retrospect, taking things that really weren’t as signs that his love was returned. 

All things considered, Remus might be the only person who would actually understand. What it had felt like to love him. To lose him. 

So he approached Remus. Ignored the faint smell of rot, which was undercut by something floral. The measuring look Remus gave him was dark but not immediately hostile. When Roman started talking, quietly, it moved to curious or even measuring. Remus even responded. Progress! Using words! And then- he’d grabbed either side of Roman’s face and kissed him. Hard. Open mouthed. 

That was no where on the list of possible outcomes for what he thought was going to happen. He hadn’t frozen- he’d bit down, pushed away, and dropped a  _ beautiful _ bone crunching punch to Remus’s face. That was when it had gotten messy. Even through the bloody, broken nose, Remus had been laughing. Then a blade had appeared, back to front in his shoulder, and Roman didn’t think he’d ever quite seen the expression of ‘oh no, actions have consequences’ quite that clearly before. And rather than anything else; he’d run, not even hitting back beyond a bodycheck as people tried to stop him. 

And someone had laughed; a hideous sound like ripping silk, and a handful of people ran after him, as Roman stared. 

“Love?” Patton coming up behind him “Are you okay?” 

Roman nodded, looking at the wooden toy that had gotten dropped, and squished into the ground by someone’s careless foot. 

* * *

Remus’s reasons were much less concrete. It jumped from point to point, connected by a spirally spine of thought. He actually was quite a bit drunk, he often was at revels these days. Part of his mind still expected Him to be there if he came. So turning part of his mind off helped. 

It was funny. Really funny that the warlock knight was trying to talk to him. 

But then- he had loved him in his stupid selfish mortal way. So maybe he did understand.

Did mortals love stronger or weaker, because they burned so brightly? 

Stupid jealousy. 

Stupid witch.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Stupid hands, stupid lips that wouldn’t stop. Shut up. 

Those were the last hands that touched Him. 

Not fair.

He watched the toy wiggle in his hands, moving back and forth, instead of looking at him. 

Asked about it, Remus responded noncommittally. He’d better not try to touch this snake. He set it down on his thigh and leaned forward a bit, looking at the witch again. 

The last touch.

It was kind of funny, if he thought about it right, actually. The last touch, the last kiss, all betrayal. It was a terrible idea, which was why it went through without properly sparking his mind at all. 

The pain of a broken nose was delightfully sobering and the entire situation was  _ hilarious _ .

“Shoulda found some mistletoe-” he started to say, when he felt a pain shoot through him. Almost literally, glancing down he saw a bloodstained blade sticking out, artfully inserted between bones. Had to admit, he hadn’t been expecting that. He glanced back, teeth bared in a smile. Charming woman. 

Funny, perhaps, but not the smartest thing he’d done recently. Time to go.

He’d probably disappoint people if he just bled out. 

**Author's Note:**

> Relevant links:  
https://archiveofourown.org/series/1111962  
https://tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors.tumblr.com/post/187742587770/out-of-curiosity-if-remus-had-existed-when-ypu  
https://thebestworstidea.tumblr.com/post/188026273483/tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors-so-a-while-back
> 
> There are of course differences between how people interpret folklore, while I tried to follow the original feel of the stories, there are going to be differences. Notably in Rowan's approach to magic.
> 
> What I found the most useful thing while writing them was keeping in mind that neither of them were sane, in different ways.


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